


Parallel

by dothraki_shieldmaiden



Series: Kumathel [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Dubious Consent, Durincest, Fluff and Angst, Incest, M/M, Plot With Porn, Rape/Non-con Elements, Separate Childhoods, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-19
Updated: 2013-05-08
Packaged: 2017-11-29 19:12:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 116,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/690469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dothraki_shieldmaiden/pseuds/dothraki_shieldmaiden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When tragedy strikes the Line of Durin, Thorin decides to separate his infant nephews in order to keep them safe. Sixty-five years later Fili is the bored, dutiful heir in Ered Luin while elsewhere Kili is simply trying to stay alive between alleyway brawls. </p><p>Everything changes when they meet and a connection is formed which seems nigh unbreakable. </p><p>At least until the truth of the past and their heritage is revealed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be short...like a one-shot short. Instead it became this behemoth which has ruined my life. 
> 
> Basically just the result of my wanting to write actual Fili/Kili romance, which to me entailed them never having met. 
> 
> So it has come to this.

# Chapter One

Sometimes in the dead of night, when there’s no sound in his chambers except for the spitting of a dying fire, Fili will stretch his memory as far back as he can. He will pass through all of his days in Ered Luin, pass by the first time he held a sword, the first time he drew a rune and try to remember what life was like before. He knows that he used to live somewhere else, Thorin’s told him as much. His uncle won’t say where though and the look on his face was so desolate when Fili first asked that the young dwarf prince won’t risk it a second time. Instead, Fili tries to find the answers for himself, in the hazy moments between wakefulness and sleep.

          He can remember a laughing dwarf woman, with a beard which looks like his uncle’s. He supposes this was his mother, Thorin’s sister. There is also a dwarf with a broad chest, booming laugh and strong hands. In Fili’s mind this is his father. There are hazy details like a hearth with a battle ax over the mantle, thick armchairs and a strong oaken table. Sometimes he can almost hear a baby’s laugh. Why he remembers hearing his own laugh, he has no idea.

          He doesn’t even know if these are real memories, or just ones which his mind has invented to fill in the blanks where his family should be. He has never seen a picture of his parents. Thorin refuses to talk about them. He only told Fili that his parents were killed in an orc raid and that he was the sole survivor. Every one of Fili’s true memories has Thorin in it.

          Fili absently tugs on the left braid of his moustache. In the long run, he supposes that it doesn’t matter much. The past is dead and buried and the wide future lies ahead.

 

-_-_-_-_-

 

 

          Kili feels his teeth clack together as he hits the ground. Blood, warm and coppery, fills his mouth and he spits once he regains his feet. He quickly probes his tongue around his teeth while his eyes dart at the four dwarves advancing on him. Good. At least he hasn’t lost a tooth. He wipes the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand and bares his teeth at his attackers.

          “Come on you sons of whores,” he snarls, beckoning them forward. “Too afraid to face me in a fair fight? Come on, two of you will be fair enough.”

          “Scum like you doesn’t deserve a fair fight,” one of the older dwarfs grunts. With that, all four are on him. Kili has the advantages of youth, agility and speed but they have strength and numbers on their side. No matter how he turns with his fists and feet, there is always someone there on his unprotected side.

          The fight does not, cannot, last long. Two take his arms and hold him still, despite his furious struggles. Surrender has never been in Kili’s vocabulary and he hisses in defiance, spitting in the leader’s face. A rough hand tangles in his long dark hair, yanking his head back painfully.

          “You defiled my sister, you filthy pervert,” the leader growls as his hand slaps across Kili’s face. Warmth blooms on his cheek but Kili refuses to close his eyes against the pain.

          “Did she say that I forced her?” Kili keeps his voice even, despite the rage bubbling inside him. She was willing enough in the dark, he could vouch for that.

          “She couldn’t speak through all the weeping,” the leader dwarf yells as his fist abruptly slams into Kili’s stomach.

          His captor’s hands are relentless and though Kili wants to double over in pain, they still hold him upright. His body spasms as he coughs and tries to put air back into his lungs. He shouldn’t feel this sense of betrayal—he knew that the dwarven maiden was never going to defend him, but he still thinks that she might have done him a better turn than this. While he was inside her, she had nothing but sweet endearments for him.

          The fist slams into Kili’s stomach again and he is backhanded just for good measure. At a curt nod from the leader of the gang, Kili is let go and he drops heavily to the ground. His fingers claw at the dirt in the street as he tries to force himself to his feet. That choice is taken out of his hands as a hand wrenches him upright by wrapping itself in the hair on top of his head. Kili claws at the hand until another hand is wrapped around his throat. His back is slammed into the unyielding wall behind him.

          The hand around his throat squeezes so tightly that Kili starts to see small dots chasing themselves around the field of his vision. Fear sneaks in through the cracks that indignant fury leaves. When he was first cornered in the alley after leaving the pub he thought it was going to be normal street brawl, but this has turned much more sinister than he had originally planned for. Just as red tinges his vision the hand releases him enough to allow him to gasp pathetically for air. It is a brief respite.

          The hand squeezes hard and his head is yanked backwards by his hair (they could leave that alone, Kili thinks with irritation) and warm, beery breath washes over his face. “If I ever see you talking to another maid or lad in this town we’ll be leaving your pretty body to decorate the streets, you beardless whelp.”

          Kili wants to sneer at the threat, but beneath the alcohol is a distant growl of foreboding, that tells him that maybe this time, he should pay attention. With the warning delivered, he is finally shoved back into the wall and released for good. The four dwarves stomp away while Kili slumps against the wall, legs sprawled out in an ungainly mess and tries to collect himself.

          _Maybe it’s time to move on to another town._

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

In the morning all of Fili’s nighttime wonderings are banished by the prospect of work. There is always work in Ered Luin for the heir of Thorin, whether it is tutoring by Balin or sparring with Dwalin, meeting trade envoys with his uncle or inspecting the village. His list of tasks seems endless, but Fili relishes the labor. He feels a sense of glowing pride as he walks down the main street of the village to see dwarves plying their labor, feels more pride when he sees the envoys from villages of Men look at the works of his people with respect and desire. His uncle has built a new life from scratch in the Blue Mountains, and Fili likes to tell himself that he has helped in some small way.

          He notices the respectfully inclined heads as he passes by the shopkeepers, but only in a casual way, the way that he notices the wind in the air, or the leaves on the trees. Utterly predictable and comfortable. If it were missing then something would be wrong. He smiles at some of the merchants he knows by name and pauses to inspect some furs which the trappers have just brought in. A pretty young maid with hair just beginning to fuzz her chin darts in front of him and Fili stops.    

          He knows that she is the daughter of one of the merchants but he can’t remember which one. He smiles at her and she blushes scarlet. Her hands are shaking as she holds a small trinket out to him. “I carved it myself, my lord,” she finally stammers. Fili can feel her tremble when their hands brush.

          He looks at the object. It lies small in the palm of his hand, a bead to snap around the ends of a finished braid. Small designs are carved into the wood. It’s a simple bauble, but the emotions, not the object, are what matters. Thorin has ingrained this into his mind: proper rulers need the love of their subjects and they will court them at any cost.

          So Fili unsnaps one of the silver beads from the end of his braids and replaces it with the wooden clasp. The maid’s eyes shine as he turns back to her. Fili breaks into what he knows is his most dazzling smile. “I’ll treasure it, my lady,” he murmurs, as he takes her clammy hand and brushes his lips across the back of it.

          If he thought she was crimson before, this is a hitherto undiscovered shade of red. When he releases her hand she clasps her chest. “Thank…thank you my Prince!” she sighs, before she darts away as suddenly as she appeared.

          Fili suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. Now he’s going to have to wear this clunky bead for at least a week for fear of giving insult if he should happen to see the lass again. Deep down inside himself, Fili is aware that he has been more created than grown, an heir which his uncle has been able to sculpt since birth. Sometimes, when the night creeps in and he hears the laughter of long dead parents he contemplates his uncle. Thorin loves him, yes, but is it the love which Dwarfs feel for their kin or the love of the beautiful creations which they mold with their hands and imaginations?

          Fili shakes his head and moves towards a friendly face. Bofur sits outside the shop he operates with his brother and cousin, piping notes on his tin whistle. He grins when Fili flops down into the chair next to him and stretches out. “Another admirer, eh lad?”

          Fili likes Bofur because of his apparent lack of respect. Thorin said that Bofur had been a miner in Erebor, before the dragon came, but now he runs a small tavern with his cousin Bombur as the cook. Fili groans at the sympathetic hand laid on his arm.

          “What am I going to do with them all?” Fili groans. He looks at Bofur. The other dwarf is smiling wickedly underneath his trademark winged hat.

          “Pick one and you’ll stop all the wondering,” Bofur answers as he pipes a cheery tune. Fili glares at him but Bofur is not cowed. “Look lad, most of the maids and a good deal of the lads dream about the privilege of getting to warm your bed at night.”

          “They dream about the privilege of bedding Thorin’s heir,” Fili corrects. Bofur shrugs.

          “Some of them might, aye. But there’s a good number who’d like nothing more than pull on those golden locks of yours.”  Fili bats Bofur’s playful hand away and the other dwarf stands, laughing merrily. “Come on lad, Bombur’s just put some scones in the oven, we’ll have a pint while we wait for them, eh?”

          And even though Fili rolls his eyes he can’t deny the rumble his stomach makes when the smell of baking drifts through the shop. He follows Bombur inside and as he quenches his thirst on strong ale and sinks his teeth into a fresh, flaky scone he thinks that there are some benefits to being an Heir of Durin after all.

 -_-_-_-_-_-_-_

 

          Kili doesn’t bother moving when the sun rises and starts to warm his bed through the window. He lies on the quilt, still in last night’s clothes and shuts his eyes, trying to put the memory of last night and a hand choking the life out of him out of his mind. Not the first time he’s been confronted by an angry relative, or even a gang of them. Not the first time that he had been defeated in an alleyway scrap. But this is the first time that his actual life has been threatened and Kili discovers that he doesn’t like it all that much.

          He hears the door creak open and the soft pad of feet across a wooden floor. His bed dips down slightly and a soft hand is laid on his shoulder. “Kili? Kili what’s wrong…oh.” His mother’s soft exhale of disappointment and grief brings a pain of regret and shame to Kili.

          His mother’s hands trace his face, pausing over the black eye and the split lip. “Oh Kili, who was it this time?”

          Is she asking about who he bedded or who beat him? Kili doesn’t know and he simply shakes his head to avoid answering. He avoids meeting his mother’s eyes. He wishes he could be a better dwarf, a better son. She’s the only person who has always been there for him in this world, the only family he has and he cannot seem to accomplish anything to make her proud.

          His mother’s hand rubs at his back. Kili hides his grimace of pain as she unknowingly presses on fresh bruises. “Kili, my wild child,” she sighs, and despite the pain in her voice there is also a note of love.

          “I fear for you…this town is not the place for you.” Kili listens to her words and the threat from last night echoes: _We’ll be leaving your pretty body to decorate the streets._ His mother does not need to hear how four dwarves threatened her son last night in a filthy alley smelling of chamber pots and sick.

          “Well, I can’t leave, so I’ll just have to make the best of it,” Kili mumbles.

          “Kili my son,” and the pain and regret in her voice make Kili curl his body tighter. “You remind me so much of my brother. He too was reckless in youth.”

          Kili rolls over and sits up to look at his mother. She is a handsome dwarven woman, dark hair streaked with thin lines of silver with a carefully trimmed beard. Her dark eyes could crinkle in laughter or flash with anger, but now they focus on a past of which Kili has never heard.

          “He never would have been content in a tiny village of Men and Dwarves clustered together,” she muses.

          “I can’t leave,” Kili protests and his mother blinks, startled out of her reverie. The smile she gives him is devastatingly bittersweet. “You’re here. I can’t just leave you.”

          “You can,” she tells him, and her hand gently combs through the hair which had been so abused last night. “Kili, you will never be happy here. It is too quiet here, too small. Even if you were born elsewhere, you still have the blood of the Lonely Mountain.”

          Kili furrows his brow at yet another reference to the past. He has asked his mother many times of his father and of Erebor, but she refuses to say anything other than his father was a craftsman who was slain at the coming of the dragon. He knows that she lost all of her male relatives to battles with orcs. The one time when he was a child he pressed her beyond her endurance and she snapped at him that some stories were best left to be tended by grief. After that, Kili has never dared to broach the subject of the past. Besides, he has enough trouble just with the present.

          Kili takes his mother’s hands in his. They’re strong hands, the skin worn from years of cooking and weaving and holding him together. His own hands can easily cover hers but he still feels like the small child who ran to hide behind her skirts whenever he was in trouble. Part of him wishes that he still could flee from his miseries so easily.

          “I can’t leave you,” he says, but that’s not the whole truth. His blood is already humming with the idea of leaving the small village less than a day’s ride from Bree but he cannot lose the only family he has. His mother is the only safe haven he has in this world.

          “Kili, if you stay here, you will continue to bed every lad and lass in the village” Kili flinches at the knowledge that his mother knows about his bedroom exploits, “and drink in the taverns every night and grow old, discontented and bitter with your life. You were not made to languish in this small place.”

          “What about you?” Kili traces his mother’s knuckles. She had slammed those knuckles into a grown dwarf’s face when he had threatened Kili for daring to make eyes at his daughter. “What will happen to you?”

          “Kili, my child, my beautiful wolf boy.” His mother’s hand cups his face. “I have already had my mountain. I had your father, I had my brothers. They are gone and now is your time. Though…” her voice chokes for a moment, “though I will miss you terribly.”

          Kili moves forward and crushes his mother into a hug which makes her wheeze, strong as she is. He buries his face in her hair as a tear comes to his eye. Her arms squeeze him back, strong and sturdy, anchoring him to the ground. “I love you,” Kili chokes out, his throat squeezing painfully.

          After an age has passed they separate. His mother’s eyes are shiny with unshed tears, but her smile is loving and content. “I know, my son. And you will always know where to find your mother Naohne.”

 -_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

          His nephew sits beside the hearth, absentmindedly puffing on his pipe as he flips through the pages of a book. Thorin watches Fili and feels a pang of regret at the sight. When he was Fili’s age any given night would find him drinking in the alehouses of Erebor with Dwalin or marching through the city with his sword brothers at his side. And if he was not with them, well, there was always Dis to accompany him, as boisterous and courageous as any dwarf soldier.

          Thorin shakes his head and forces a small smile as Fili looks up and sees him. He has never regretted his choice. He knows it was the right one to make, but sometimes he does wish that Fili would find more companions. He broached the topic gingerly one night, wondering how other parents approached their younglings, but Fili had just smiled and shaken his head. “I don’t care for much of anyone’s false friendships or empty smiles,” his nephew had said. “If I truly wanted friendship uncle, I would find it.”

          Thorin sits in an armchair that feels much too rickety for this house. Fili looks expectantly at him as he takes another puff from his pipe. Sometimes, in moments and glimpses, Thorin can see his sister’s husband so clearly in their son that it sends a pang through him to remember Nain as he once looked, strong and hearty as he wielded his war-hammer.

          “Uncle?” Fili prompts and Thorin shakes himself.

          “I am leading an expedition to White Harbor to talk of trade and protection along the roads for merchants.” A brief flicker of interest lights up Fili’s eyes before his face returns to the impassive mask with which Thorin is so familiar.

          “When do we leave?” Fili asks, more from courtesy than curiosity.

          “Balin and Dwalin will accompany me, but you will be staying here.” Thorin feels triumph when Fili’s jaw drops as the full weight of his words hit. “You will not stay in my shadow forever Fili. It will only be a few weeks that I am gone, but for those weeks you will be the law in Ered Luin. Our people will look to you as they look to me. They will look to you in the same way when I am gone.”

          A slight twist of Fili’s lips tells Thorin all he needs to know about what his nephew thinks of this turn in the conversation. “We leave in a week’s time.”

          Fili smiles at him and they continue a conversation for a few moments before they both lapse into silence. Most of their nights end as such, the two of them sitting quietly by the fire, both surrounded by a cloud of pipe smoke and each in their own thoughts. It’s a comfortable way of existence, and Thorin cannot deny that he is proud of Fili—at seventy he reads Khuzdul better than even Thorin, though he would never admit that fact—but he still wishes that he saw his nephew smile more.

          Nain had a huge booming laugh which would echo in the chambers of Erebor. Dis’s laugh was no less loud, though hers had the bright sound of golden coins clinking together. His sister and her husband had been able to have entire conversations out of nothing but their shared giggles. It had driven him mad sometimes, to be so obviously left out, but he had cherished his sister’s grin all the same. He remembers Fili as a small child, nothing more than a toddler. That child had laughed almost continuously, had seen life as nothing more than a colossal adventure. The Fili who sits before him now is as far removed from that child as Thorin is from his own kingdom.

          “I think I’ll retire for the night uncle,” Fili says, as he stretches and slides out of his chair. His pipe is cleaned and put in its proper spot and Thorin knows that before he sleeps Fili will check every one of his braids to make sure each is in its proper place. So fastidious, so mature. Thorin has raised Fili to cherish these qualities, has raised Fili to be the perfect heir that he desired.

          He does not know why he feels such pity for his nephew and such disgust for himself as Fili inclines his head before he marches up the stairs to his room.

          It was the right decision. 

         


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kili leaves his old village and Fili...putt-putters about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me! Changed the tags to add slow build because...well...it is. 
> 
> Seriously though, thanks for putting up with me. I always said that I never wanted to write a slow building story and yet...here we are.

Kili leaves in the small blue mists of the pre-dawn with only his mother to see him off. She kisses his cheek, adjusts his quiver on his back and rearranges his hair and the placing of his cloak before Kili finally grabs her hands. He kisses her palms before he kisses her cheek. There are tears in her eyes but also pride and hope.

          “Be safe my child,” she whispers as she clings to him one last time before she lets him go. “Be happy.”

          “I love you,” Kili says needlessly, because his mother knows him better than anyone, his mother knows that she is the only one in this world that he loves.

          He doesn’t look back as he starts down the road. If he does then the temptation to run back, to fling himself into his mother’s arms and never leave will be too great. Instead he concentrates on the horizon, the soft pink just cresting the hills. His skin warms from the impending dawn, though dew stains the leather of his boots.

          Kili is glad for the closed shutters in the houses he passes. He doesn’t know what the reactions would be if the dwarves of the village saw him leaving but it certainly wouldn’t boost his confidence. Maybe they’ll all throw a party and let their younglings out now that he’s not there to debauch any of them.

          Kili sets his shoulders as he walks out past the outskirts of the village, past the farmers’ fields. The world is stirring now, livestock calling and shutters opening. Kili passes it all, looking at a world that he is no longer part of.

          Ered Luin, his mother had said. The dwarf town was deep in the settlement of the Blue Mountains. That was the extent of Kili’s knowledge but his mother had said, “I think you might find what you’re looking for there.” He had tried not to be intimidated by the look on her face, but it was hard. Still, having a destination sounded better than running off into the wild, so Ered Luin it was.

          The map lies curled in his pocket, a piece of parchment between him and the wide world. Even though it is very un-Dwarven of him, Kili feels comfortable in the wild, open and untamed places. He has spent much of his time here, with nothing but his bow for company. Yet another reason he was set apart from the rest of the dwarves in his village.

          Kili rolls his shoulders as he continues walking. He wishes he could stop thinking about his old village, but somehow his mind always returns to it, a scab which he simply cannot stop picking. He tells himself that matters will be different in Ered Luin.

          They have to be.

 -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

          The week before Thorin’s departure is a study in the nature of time. Fili wishes that it will last forever, this weak buffer between him and adulthood, and at the same time wishes it gone. He is ready to face the world on his own, even if it is only for a few weeks. He tries to go about his life but lurking in the back of his mind is always the thought: _By this time next week all these dwarves will be under my protection._ It is a heady and sobering realization.

          Thorin doesn’t have much time for him, what with checking provisions and going over trade proposals, maps and coinage. Fili doesn’t mind. He hadn’t expected a long talk with his uncle. Instead he spent his days sparring with Dwalin. It was brutal exercise which left him walking stiffly and with a sizeable bruise on his hip but it had the purpose of whiling away the time and keeping his mind occupied. At the end of the night he sinks into his bed and floats away into the blissful confines of oblivion without a care in the world.

          That night he dreams.

          His body seems far too small for the world which he inhabits. He is always peering up, searching for something, though he does not know what. Everything which is above him is hazy, though it is filled with soft yellow light. Fili knows, somehow, that he is safe.

          He hears the creak of a door opening from behind him and he turns around. He thinks his mouth might drop open in astonishment, for there is the woman which he sometimes thinks he remembers, her dark hair flowing around her shoulders, thin braids throughout. He reaches up to her, suddenly filled with a strange sense of longing he has never felt before. When her eyes light on him and her mouth splits in a smile something inside Fili responds, a reaction over which he has no control.

          “Fili,” she says, and her voice is music and warmth, the soft pillow at the end of the day, a warm piece of bread from the oven, soft and _home,_ “Fili, look what I have to show you.”

          She holds out something to him and Fili reaches out, and as he does so he sees that his hands are chubby and the fingers short. _Child,_ his mind helpfully supplies. The woman is bending down now, drawing back the fold of a cloak—

          Fili awakens suddenly, his stomach lurching as if he has just missed a step. His eyes flicker around his room, reacquainting himself with surroundings he has known all his life. After a few moments his heartbeat settles to normal and he takes in a shaky breath.

          “Just a dream,” he murmurs, blinking hard to clear the last memories of the dream. Already the details are slipping away from him like sand through his fingers and the more he tries to hold onto them the harder they are to capture. Fili eventually surrenders the fight and stops trying to remember the lines around the woman’s face, the smell clinging to her clothes, the way her eyes lit up when she saw him.

          Fili knuckles his eyes hard enough to cause a small frisson of pain. He doesn’t have time for dreams and imaginings and empty wishes. Still, the pure joy in her voice when she said his name…no one has ever sounded that happy to see him. Not even Thorin. He bites his lip until it is raw as the final details of the dream slowly fade away, leaving him with the impression instead of the memory.

          And when that happens, Fili’s eyes drift closed again and he finally slips into a dreamless sleep.

 -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

          Despite his general aversion towards company of any sort, by the fifth day of travelling Kili takes to talking to interesting looking shrubbery along the way, just to hear the sound of a voice. There were inns at which he could stay, but he barely had enough coppers as it was. He had refused to take any of his mother’s coins and had returned the pouch she had snuck into his bag. He supposed that he could stay at a town and do a bit of smithing work in exchange for a place to stay, but it was easier to just stay on the road.

          At night he made camp and sat beside the fire, roasting the hares he’d caught earlier in the day. He hums tunelessly to himself when the sound of twig snapping freezes him. A moment later, after straining his ears, he can hear the barely audible whisper of cloth dragging the ground and brushing against leaves. Kili seizes his bow and nocks an arrow in a movement that’s more natural than breathing and he glares towards the darkness. “Show yourself!” he calls out to the darkness, and thinks a moment later that he sounds stupid.

          There is more rustling in the dark before a Man steps out, hands held wide to show that he is unarmed. Kili suspiciously looks him over. The man is dressed for the wild—muddy boots, a stained and much-mended cloak, leather gloves, and the detail which catches Kili’s attention the most, a longsword belted at his waist.

          “Peace Master Dwarf, I mean you no harm.” Of course anyone would say that, but the man’s voice is frank and deep, with a certain timbre which makes Kili want to trust him. He relaxes somewhat, but still keeps his bow trained on the man as he takes another step forward towards the fire.

          “What do you want?” Kili demands.

          “Just to share a fire and conversation,” the man says as he sits down and watches Kili. After a few moments Kili relaxes fully and sets his bow aside, though his eyes never leave the figure of the tall man. He is not accustomed to the company of other races and he has never taken easily to strangers. “It’s not often that I find travelers in the wild, less often Dwarves.”

          “I’m unusual,” Kili bites shortly. He sits on the opposite side of the fire from the man, quickly turning the rabbits on the spit to avoid burning. He offers nothing else for conversation though he feels the man’s eyes on him. He looks up and grimaces in dislike. He has never been one for easily making friends.

          Finally the silence wears on Kili. “What is your business here in the wild?” The man tips his head slightly and Kili feels like he has lost a round at a game they were playing.

          “I might ask the same of you,” the man returns and Kili’s frown deepens. “The wilds and all who travel in them are my business, but a Dwarf alone in the wild? That is a strange sight.”

          “No one wanted to come along to braid my hair,” Kili grunts as he pulls the rabbits off the fire. He hands one over to the stranger, his stomach gurgling unhappily at the thought of lost food. “Still haven’t answered my question.”

          “If you’re going to be in the wild, you should know the difference between friend and foe.” Kili’s head shoots up at that and he glances towards his bow, cursing himself for laying it so far away. “Calm, I am no foe. But you should learn to recognize a Ranger of the north when first you see one.”

          Kili squints at the man and sees no lie in his eyes. He has heard of the Rangers of the north, the guardians who patrol the small villages and keep them safe from orcs and bandits alike. They are seldom seen and less appreciated, but the Men in the north owe them a debt. The Dwarves acknowledge their services, but have few dealings with them.

          Kili finally relaxes fully and sinks his teeth into the meat of the rabbit. It tastes of smoke and too little salt, but it also tastes like safety and trust. “Kili,” he grunts around his mouthful. The man nods his head in acknowledgement at he takes a more refined bite of his dinner.

          “Estel.”

 -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

          The night before Thorin leaves he shares a dinner with Fili. It is a typically quiet affair, filled more with the sounds of their chewing and gentle clinking of their silverware than any conversation. At the end Thorin pushes his plate away and sits back in the chair. This is as close to an undignified sprawl as occurs in their house.

          “All the preparations are made?” Fili asks, more because he wants to fill the silence than because he actually needs to know. Of course all the preparations were made. His uncle is running the mission. Fili wouldn’t be surprised to learn that everything was already in order when his uncle first announced to him that he would be leaving.

          Thorin nods. “Yes, of course.” They lapse into silence again and Fili fights the urge to begin fidgeting. When he was younger he would wiggle and squirm as Balin went over their lessons, itching to run, to play, to move. It wasn’t until Thorin took him aside and sternly explained that it did not befit an heir of Durin to wriggle like a worm on a hook that Fili started to force himself to keep still on the unyielding surface of a chair. The idea that after so many years he has to desire to start jiggling his foot underneath the table is unwelcome to say the least.

          “You should go out tonight,” Thorin says, and the sound of his voice is almost as unexpected as the words. Fili wrinkles his brow in confusion at his uncle and Thorin looks almost embarrassed. “You must have a lot on your mind, it might be good for you to go and…have fun.”

          His uncle looks like he swallowed a lemon and Fili feels his face burn. He cannot remember ever feeling this footless with Thorin, not even when he was a small child and his feet were tangled during training. Still, Fili hears the suggestion of an order and Thorin has trained him to obey his every request. After cleaning his dish Fili stands at the door. He is so awkward as he shuffles his feet and tries to ignore Thorin’s eyes on him as he slides on his thick coat. Fili suppresses the urge to nuzzle into the fur collar as he opens the door.

          “Don’t…” _Don’t wait for me,_ Fili wants to say, but that sounds utterly ridiculous to his ears.

          Thorin seems to understand, though he looks just as lost as Fili feels. “I’ll see you in the morning before we leave.”

          Fili shuts the door behind him as he contemplates the open night before him.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kili and Fili both spend time with friends...some of whom may be not so friendly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, all of you guys are the best. Seriously. This chapter does contain a slight dub-con situation...I've changed the tags for it but seriously, if this could possibly trigger you, please get someone to proofread for you. Any serious complaints, let me know.

Later, after the shared meal, Kili surveys his unlikely guest. Estel’s face is unlined and his hair still has the vibrant colour of youth. Though Kili is terrible at guessing ages, worse when it comes to members not of his race, he supposes that Estel is young by the reckoning of his people. Then again, Kili is nothing more than a gangly youth by dwarf years.

          Conversation isn’t quite lively between the two of them but it continues at a comfortable enough pace. The fire pops and the sound fills the quiet spaces between words. Both man and dwarf puff on their pipes, the smoke settling around their heads because it is carried away by the breeze. Kili clenches his pipe in his teeth as he stirs the fire, body starting at Estel’s sudden question.

          “Where are you headed?”  

          Kili looks into the calm blue eyes before he answers. Wariness has always been a trait which he has profited from but in this case something tells him that it is unnecessary.“Ered Luin.”

          “For work? I wouldn’t think that a dwarf would need to search that far for employment.”

          Kili shrugs as he scrubs at the stubble on his chin. “I was…politely told to leave my old village.” A rueful smile dashes across his face as Kili notes Estel’s wry grin at his use of the word ‘polite’. “My mother was the person who suggested Ered Luin. She said that I might find what I was looking for there.”

          “What are you looking for?”

          It’s a natural continuation to his previous statement, so Kili should be prepared for the question, but it still catches him off-guard. He’s wondered this himself, in the lonely nights as he stared at the stars before he drifted off. What is he looking for?

          “I don’t know,” Kili admits. He keeps his eyes on the fire. It somehow seems easier than looking into those knowing eyes. “I just…I know something’s not right. I feel…I feel like a misshapen piece of iron and someone’s always trying to force me where I don’t belong.” He sighs and takes a deep inhale from his pipe. Estel says nothing and Kili is pleasantly surprised to see not pity but understanding in the man’s face. He licks his lower lip as he continues.

          “I thought smithing would make it better, then I thought drinking, then I thought fighting, and hunting, and fucking…” Kili’s eyes flick to Estel’s face, but there is no judgment. The man simply takes another drag from his pipe and blows the smoke out while he waits for Kili to continue. “But nothing worked." Kili self-consciously laughs and tugs at a tendril of his hair. "It all seems a bit stupid doesn’t it?”

          Kili puffs on his pipe to save himself from speaking any further. The tips of his ears burn and he fears that he has said too much to this Ranger who came unbidden to his campfire.

          “I know something of this emotion of which you speak,” Estel finally says as he stretches out one of his legs. “And I think it’s good to search for a place where you belong.”

          “And you?” Kili finally gathers up his courage to ask. “Where do you belong?”

          Estel graciously tips his head towards Kili as he stretches out completely, pillowing his head against a log. “I’ll know when I find it.”

 -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

          Fili goes to Bofur’s tavern, since it is at least familiar territory. From outside the street it looks comforting enough—the windows glow from the light within and the faint strains of a fiddle can be heard. He rolls his shoulders as he pushes open the door and steps inside.

          Raucous laughter greets him and it is so jarring to his ears that Fili wants to flee at once. But the Heir of Durin flees from nothing, least of all bar room laughter so he steels his courage and strides up to the bar. He knows the procedure from the few times he’s visited pubs with hunting parties but he is desperately alone now. He smirks in self-deprecation at the thought: Fili, Heir of Durin, without a friend at the bar.

          “Fancy seeing you here lad!” Relief floods through him at the sound of the familiar, cheery voice. Bofur claps him on the arm and from out of nowhere, produces a pint to slide into his hand. The other dwarf beams at him, trademark hat slightly askew. “Haven’t seen you out in…” He trails off as he tries to think of the last time Fili went outside his own walls at night. Which was never.

          “A long time.” Fili isn’t sure whether he’s rescuing Bofur from thinking or his own dignity but either way it restores the slightly manic grin to Bofur’s face.

          “Well come on lad, Bifur’s taking all the boys’ money and you won’t want to miss that. Daft bugger, I don’t know how he does it, but he’s a wizard with them cards.”

          Before he can protest Bofur has plopped him in a seat next to Bifur. The dwarf does appear to have an impressive pile of coins in front of them and there’s a distinctly pleased smile flitting in his normally wide eyes. Fili receives a few odd looks but no one comments on his sudden unexplained appearance among them, for which Fili is grateful.

          After half an hour and a few more drinks from Bofur Fili is relaxed enough to smile when Bifur again wins another round. He is interrupted from watching the groaning dwarves dig deeper into their money pouches by a tap on his shoulder.

          Fili turns around, the motion sending a pleasant swooping sensation through his body, and sees one of his old hunting partners. “Mim,” he slurs, pleased that he recognized the other dwarf. He was one of the younger dwarves in Ered Luin, though a few years older than Fili. In their youth they had been assigned to the hunting parties which would range the hills and valleys and bring back game for the butchers. Fili had grown out of the ranging missions. Mim had not.

          “Come to drink amongst the peasants, eh Prince?” Though Mim smiles, there’s a slightly unkind tilt to his lips and the word ‘Prince’ falls crueler from his lips than it ever did from Bofur’s.

          The alcohol still buzzes in Fili’s blood and takes away the sting of the insult. “I thought I’d give you something to talk about,” Fili says as he raises his tankard. Any dwarf will cheer a raised glass and soon faces are buried in the mugs, even Mim’s. When Mim’s eyes meet his again, Fili sees that the malicious expression has dulled somewhat, though some forgotten instinct inside him chants to be wary of this dwarf.

          Still, Mim is an old hunting partner, one whom Fili had spent many summer nights with, curled up in blankets under the stars next to a popping campfire. They have been brothers in arms and Fili was raised with Thorin’s expectations of shield-brothers :they are to be trusted absolutely. So Fili accepts the hand on his elbow, urging him to his feet and into a shadowy alcove of the tavern.

          Alarms ring in Fili’s hazy mind when he feels hands on his shoulders, only to scream in warning as Mim shoves him into the wall. Fili’s natural sense of dignity, inflamed by his uncle, takes over and he pushes himself up to as great a height as he can manage as he opens his mouth to roar about his injured pride. Any words which he might have said are quelled by the sensation of lips on his.

          It is perhaps Fili’s closest kept secret, but he has never been kissed before. No one has ever gotten so close to his nor has he ever felt that sort of attraction to anyone. If this is what kissing is like, Fili thinks that he has made the right decision.

          Teeth scrape against his lower lip, chafing the delicate skin. Indelicate hands tug painfully at his braids and as Fili opens his mouth to protest a wet slimy tongue, tasting of stale pipe-weed and ale is shoved inside his mouth. Fili finds that his natural strength is fueled by shock and anger and he pushes Mim, feeling a slight sense of victory when the other dwarf stumbles over a chair.

          Fili pants with indignation and revulsion and the slightest hint of fear at the ravenous look in Mim’s eyes. “So beautiful,” his once shield-brother whispers as his eyes rove over Fili’s frame. Fili feels strangely ashamed by this and pulls his anger close to him as a shield.

          “I could have your head for that,” he growls, rage simmering in him, deadly and waiting. “Assaulting an Heir of Durin?” The sudden fear in Mim’s eyes pleases him, which scares him as well. “You have had too much to drink,” Fili dismisses, trying to regain his control. “Speak of this to no one, or I’ll take more than your head.”

          With that, he storms out of the tavern, his passing unremarked by all. His rage and shame are such that he does not feel Mim’s eyes on his back, lustful and dangerous.

          Fili strides quickly down the street, boots stomping at the loose gravel until he makes his way to the house he shares with his uncle. He wants to burst in the door like a tempest, wants to shake the rafters with his fury and pride but instead he quietly opens the door just wide enough so he can slip inside and slides the bolt gently home. He takes his boots off at the foyer before he pads up the stairs to his chamber, walking on the balls of his feet so he won’t make a sound. His uncle is a remarkably light sleeper; Fili has probably already woken him up, but he tries to stay quiet just in case.

          Once inside the confines of his chambers, Fili pulls off his coat and then the rest of his outer clothes with fingers that are suddenly shaking. He sits heavily on the edge of the bed and his whole body starts to tremble as his treacherous mind replays the scene in the tavern. Fili’s hands grip the sheets so tightly that he thinks that they will rip. Bile rises in his throat and he swallows it down with effort.

          _Put his filthy hands on me, kissed me like I was a common whore…_ Fili closes his eyes and tries to rein in his breathing. The last time he cried, he was a child and Dwalin had accidentally broken his finger in training. He will not cry. He is an Heir of Durin, and Heirs of Durin do not cry. Not even when they are molested in dark bars.

          Fili’s not sure how it happens, but somehow he manages to fall asleep curled in the safety of his own bed. He dreams again, but this time it’s a young dwarf male who captivates him, his unbraided dark hair swirling around his face. Stubble decorates the youth’s chin and there is a slightly feral look to his eyes as he takes in Fili. He flashes a smile at Fili that is part challenge and part exuberance and cocks his head in a gesture which plainly indicates that Fili is to follow him. In his dream Fili complies; trying always to catch up to the strange dwarf, only to fall further behind. Always, the dwarf turns and gestures for him to follow.

          _Wait,_ Fili cries out, _don’t leave me._

          The pain of abandonment wrenches him awake in the morning. Tears stealthily form at the corner of his eyes and Fili angrily knuckles them away. He sits up and freezes.

          He is rock hard.

 

 -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

         

          Kili and Estel part company easily enough in the morning, with few words spoken between them. The Ranger raises his hand in farewell before he disappears into the brush. Kili watches him until the trees seem to swallow him up. He knows that he will never see the Ranger again, the same way that he also knows that the Ranger has given him a gift. He now knows that he is not alone in the world, that perhaps everyone is searching for some hidden desire that is always just out of their reach.

          His feet feel lighter as he treads the road to Ered Luin, dust billowing in his wake. He looks up towards the sky, closing his eyes against the sun’s harsh rays and an honest smile cracks his face as he feels the warmth spread over his cheeks.

_This time I’ll do everything right, I promise._

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-__

          Of course Thorin was awoken by Fili’s arrival in the night. Fili likes to think that he is quiet and stealthy, but to Thorin’s ears he makes as much noise as a herd of rampaging oliphaunts. He almost wants to ask Fili how his night went, but the words stick in his throat. He cares, but it would just feel unnatural to question his nephew as such. He has always tried to give Fili the privacy that he himself would want and he cannot play the doting father so late in their relationship.

          Besides, he sees something dark flitting in Fili’s eyes, though the look disappears the moment Thorin tries to analyze it. Replacing it is the expression of bland politeness which Fili wears so well. Thorin recognizes that look as an exact replica of the mask which he wears and he tries not to feel regret that Fili has copied everything about him.

          Unbidden, as he looks at his nephew moments before his departure, the memory of Fili as a youngling rears up. His nephew had been all smiles and laughs as a child, easily shaking off the normal bumps and bruises of childhood to rejoice in the simple ecstasy of life. Nain and Dis had done nothing but encourage their son’s laughter…and so had he, Thorin suddenly remembers. Why has that recollection escaped him until now? He used to fling Fili up in the air, strong hands catching the lightweight body as Fili shrieked and giggled with delight and begged “Agin, agin Thorin!”

          Everything had been so different back then. Despite the circumstances of their exile and the smoldering rage which always burned in his heart, _he_ was different back then. He would sit at his sister’s table and watch Fili eat, seeing the best parts of his sister and her husband combined, even seeing traces of his father and his long-lost brother Frerin. And when the second child had arrived, he had thought his heart would burst as he looked at the dark hair and eyes which were so common to the line of Durin.

          That was before everything changed. Before the blood and the slaughter, before the tears and grief. Before the laughter was extinguished and Thorin forgot how to smile. Now Fili stands in front of him, a question rising and cracking the exterior of his mask and Thorin still cannot regret anything he has done. He would much rather have Fili alive, with that wretched politely blank expression wiping his face clean, than buried beneath the unfeeling earth.

          “Uncle? Balin and the rest are waiting for you.” Thorin nods as he slides his coat on and checks his belt around his waist. Fili follows at his heels as Thorin opens the door and steps outside. Balin, Dwalin, and the rest of their company are already mounted, with several shaggy pack ponies trailing behind.

          Thorin turns towards Fili. His nephew looks calm but Thorin would not expect anything else from him. He lets his eyes linger before he gruffly clears his throat and claps Fili on the shoulder.

          “Good luck,” he says, for lack of anything else to say. Part of him wants to pull Fili into an embrace but Fili nods and shoves his hands into his belt and the moment is lost. Instead, Thorin gives him a small shake before he mounts his pony without another word.

          “Look for our coming in a month,” Thorin says before he nudges his pony into a walk. Within a few moments Fili is left behind and the open road is before him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously though, I promise that they'll FINALLY meet next chapter.
> 
> I made a promise Mr. Frodo, a promise.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is snark, food porn, and an unexpected meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me, you guys are amazing. Here is what I like to think of as a monster of a chapter. It's a bit longer than the others but I think you'll appreciate it. At least I hope that you will.

From the size alone, Kili guesses that the town he approaches is Ered Luin. The walls are larger than anything he has seen before, tall spears stretching up towards the sky. He walks forward and sees the carvings on the heavy wooden doors; Dwarfish ancestors’ faces glaring solemnly at him and Kili feels something leap inside him in recognition, though he has never seen this place before. As he crosses the threshold, garnering nothing more than a curious look from a bored guard, Kili feels something that he can only liken to coming home.

          The feeling does not fade as he walks deeper into the village. In fact, it only deepens as he passes by dwarves at their forges, women at their looms, tanners beating the skins outside their shops. He notes the curious, coy looks from the maids which he passes and goes as far as to wink at one of them, causing her to blush to the roots of her beard.

          Finally he reaches what must be the main market square, as evidenced by the many dwarves shouting and plying wares. Trinkets and swords are passed around with grunts of appreciation and judgment. Kili exhales deeply as his eyes drink in the sights of the square, taking everything in—

          And then he sees _him_.

          The most gorgeous Dwarf that Kili has ever seen, and he knows that he will never see a more beautiful sight as long as he lives. Golden hair gleams in the morning sun and two twin swords are strapped across his broad back and shoulders. His coat is leather with a luxurious fur collar, denoting a dwarf of high status. Kili’s heart starts to pound hard in his chest the longer he looks and never before has he been so aware of blood pulsing through his veins.

          As if the Dwarf is aware of Kili’s scrutiny he turns to face him, eyes swiftly assessing. Kili swallows and feels oddly childish and wild to this Dwarf’s elegant gaze. The blonde moustache is meticulously braided, strands hanging down past lips which Kili now yearns to kiss. His mane is also braided and clasped to the base of his skull with a hair clip. He has broad shoulders and a thick chest, sturdy waist and stocky legs. He is, in short, perfect.

          Their eyes are still locked together and Kili sees the stormy blue depths widen in surprise and the curved lips drop open in what can only be amazement. They stand staring at each other, uncaring of the wide world which is passing them by, until the blonde’s attention is claimed by a vendor. Kili feels an odd sense of loss when the other’s eyes reluctantly leave him.

          “Haven’t seen you around these parts before.” Kili swallows and drinks in the sight of his dwarf before he slowly turns to face the speaker. Another dwarf faces him, mug held in his hands. His hair is plaited into two thick braids on either side of his head and his moustache dangles down past his chin. An absurd furred hat with two large wings on either side sits atop his head. The entire effect is utterly ridiculous but Kili cannot help but be drawn in by the look of naked friendliness on the other’s face.

          “I just arrived today,” Kili says. It’s a struggle to keep his eyes on Winged Hat Dwarf and not sprint after the dwarf who, in his mind, Kili already calls his own.

          “Well then, let’s get you a drink!” The hand on his elbow suddenly drags Kili into the tavern, muddy boots and all. Before Kili enters the building he glances over his shoulder but already the blonde dwarf has disappeared in the throng. A pang of loss shoots through him but it is quickly replaced by determination.

          After drifting for so long Kili had finally found an anchor.

         

 -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

          It was him.

          Fili pants as he leans against the wall of his room, his fists digging into the flesh above his knees. There’s a dull roar in his ears and his head feels as though it might spin directly off his shoulders. Keeping a clear mind is a losing battle and Fili’s mind inevitably returns to one inescapable conclusion.

          It was him.

          Fili has never believed in the idea of premonition: coincidence and wishful thinking could explain everything and he has no time for superstition. But it was the youth from his dream, down to the blue hood and the quiver strapped to his back.

          The jolt of recognition had been painful in its clarity but seconds later the first shock had been almost overwhelmed by something else, another feeling which Fili could not even begin to describe. He only knew that it started somewhere in his belly and flowed throughout him, warm and fierce. The feeling sharpened whenever it looked at the strange dwarf and for Fili, it was as if the world had suddenly realigned or come back into focus after staring at it cross-eyed for all his life.

          He must have looked like an idiot, staring at a newcomer from across the market square. People would talk about him, say that he couldn’t stand up to the pressures. Less than a day after his uncle leaves and he’s already gawping at strangers like a child.

          _It’s different and you know that,_ says an unfamiliar internal voice. Fili bites his lip and looks around at his chambers. He’s lived here for as long as his memory will stretch. Every item is in its proper place and no one comes in here except him. Nothing has changed for years.

          Everything is different.

          When he looks at his combs all he imagines is that dark hair flowing through his fingers. The hearth makes him think of late nights spent talking and reading, maybe just sitting quietly and enjoying the silence. The bed…Fili growls low in his throat, disgusted with himself as he feels his lower anatomy stir in interest. He’s already had enough problems controlling himself today. He will not let some stranger come in and jeopardize everything which he has worked to achieve.

          Fili makes the promise, even though it already sounds empty to his ears.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_- 

          By the third mug of ale Kili decides that Bofur is magical. Either that or this ale is possibly the best he’s ever had. And the sausages are heavenly as well. Kili tries another one, just to test his theory. Heavenly.

          He barely keeps from salivating as the incredibly rotund dwarf which Bofur introduced as Bombur lays out another plate of something which looks deliciously cheesy. A single bite confirms his assumptions. Kili devours it, pausing only to take sips from his mug to wash down the food. Later, he’ll be embarrassed about the way he single-mindedly puts the food down but for now there’s a plate of cheese and beef being put before him.

          “Aye, keep it coming Bombur!” Bofur calls from beside him. Bombur’s pudgy hand claps Kili on the shoulder and the fat dwarf grins at him, obviously pleased by the sheer quantity of food which Kili manages to put away. Kili smiles back through his mouthful of cheese. As long as Bombur is bringing him food, Kili is content to eat it. While he certainly wasn’t starving to death none of his meals prepared on the road could ever compare to this veritable feast.

          “You eat like this every day?” Kili mumbles in amazement as yet another plate is set out. A faint worry rose in his mind as to how he was going to pay for the amount of food he was shoveling in, but it was dismissed as a roast duck was set in front of him, crispy skin steaming.

          “Normally Bombur gets it all first but he hasn’t had anyone new to show off for, so you’re getting quite a treat lad,” Bofur said as he swats Kili’s hand away from a particularly plump sausage. Kili accepts the reprimand, seeing more friendliness in the gesture than annoyance.

          “So what brings you to Ered Luin lad?”

          Kili pauses for a moment then raises a shoulder in a casual shrug. “Just needed a change of scenery is all.” It’s an almost honest answer which hopefully satisfies any curiosity the other dwarf may have. “Know of anyone who could use work?” If he’s going to put himself in debt then he might as well find a job somewhere.

          “I think Gloin could use some help in his forge,” Bofur muses. He turns and shouts to a dwarf with a truly impressive ginger beard. Kili self-consciously scrubs at his own scraggly chin before he forces his hand in his lap. “Oi, Gloin! You were looking for someone in the forge, right?”

          The dwarf called Gloin stomps over and looks at Kili with an appraising eye. “He looks like he’d be crushed under the weight of a hammer,” he announces, garnering a laugh from the tavern.

          Irritation at the insult immediately floods through Kili and he shoots up from his seat, ears already turning crimson from anger. “Strong enough to crush you like a bug old man,” he snarls, the old bitterness of his village rushing back at him. He feels brittle around the edges, like a piece of metal that’s been reheated and beaten one too many times. “What do you say, want to go outside and try?”

          His lips are curled in a defiant sneer, so it takes him by surprise when Gloin laughs full in his face. Kili bristles and prepares to launch himself at the ginger dwarf, surroundings be damned, when he recognizes a tune to Gloin’s guffaws. It is genuine, pleased mirth. Not mocking, derisive laughter or cruel vicious snickers, just…happiness. In fact, he sounds pleased.

          Bofur laughs and his voice has the clear, ringing tones of pleasure. “I’d say that you two are going to fit just fine together.”

          Gloin’s shoulders are still shaking as he throws an arm around Kili’s shoulders with some difficulty; Kili is a few inches taller than him. “What do you say lad? Oin’s practically useless now—“a dwarf listening to the conversation with an ear trumpet lets out an indignant shout, “and I’ve been busy with my firstborn so it would be nice having a youngling to pick up our slack.”

          Kili wordlessly nods, his mouth hanging open in confusion. He doesn’t quite know just what happened here—he threatened this dwarf and instead of hauling him outside by the scruff of his neck and beating him into a pulp, he just smiled, almost like Kili had done something of which he approved. After working out particulars Gloin tramps back to his table and Kili slides next to Bofur.

          Confusion must be writ plain on his face for Bofur to read as he inclines his head to Kili. “We stand up for ourselves here, laddie,” Bofur confides as he slides another pint into Kili’s hands. “We’ve lost too much already to let anyone, even our kin and friends, take anything else from us.”

          Kili nods as his mind tries to wrap itself around the events of the past few minutes, reconciling them with all of the beatings in his village. _Beardless whelp, whoremonger, fatherless brat, son of a whore…_ He’d stood up to everyone of their insults and done his best to throw their words back into their teeth with his fists and gotten nothing but bruises and cuts for his troubles. He’d always assumed that maybe it was something wrong with him, something wild and untamed which caused him to throw himself into fights he had no hope of winning. Maybe…maybe that was the way it was supposed to be?

          “Have anywhere to stay Kili?” Bofur asks, interrupting his train of thought. Kili stares into his kindly eyes, feeling more vulnerable than he had half an hour ago.

          “No but…I don’t have much copper to pay for a room.” Kili swallows at the admission and bites his lip to stop it quivering when Bofur waves a hand in the air.

          “No worries lad, you’ve got proper work now. You’ll pay me back, not like I won’t know where to find you.”

          “Thanks,” Kili whispers, and the gratitude threatens to choke him.

          “Don’t know where you came from, but here it’s different,” Bofur assures him and the weight of his hand on Kili’s back feels like a blanket drawing close around him.

          Kili doesn’t have any problem believing him.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

          Fili’s not in the habit of drinking in the early afternoon but after the events of last night and this morning he doesn’t want to put the effort into feeling ashamed. Without his permission, his feet take him to Bofur’s. Despite what happened the last time he was there, he wants to talk to the shopkeeper, even if it’s about nothing more than general banal topics. Familiarity. Familiarity and perhaps a pint of good ale and he will be perfectly all right.

          But as soon as he swings the door open all thoughts of a relaxing interlude flee from him. Because _he_ is here. His back is facing Fili, but Fili knows it’s him, more from his instinctive gut reaction than the distinctive bow and quiver strapped to his back. Ered Luin isn’t a huge city, but there is more than one tavern. What are the chances that they would both choose to frequent the same tavern?

          Bofur looks around when he hears the door creak open and his face splits into the simple smile which Fili always looks forward to seeing. “Come over here little Prince, meet Gloin’s newest employee!”

          At least he isn’t the only one who looks utterly ridiculous, Fili thinks with a thrill of vindication, as the dark haired dwarf turns around and his mouth drops open. Fili hopes he doesn’t look that dumbfounded, though he probably does. He feels torn: part of him wants nothing more than to run away and cower underneath his bed where he will never have to face the world again and the other part…the other part wants to grab this slender dwarf and do things with him of which Fili has never even dreamed of before.

          Most eyes are on him by now and Fili cannot stay frozen. The Heir of Durin does not freeze instead of making a simple introduction. So he forces his feet to move forward, though they have never felt heavier. He looks down at the dwarf who has been in his thoughts ever since he was in his dreams.

          Durin, but he looks so _young._ His beard is nothing more than stubble on his face and his hair is windblown and unbraided. Still, there is something lingering around the corners of his lips and in the depths of his eyes which says that even though he looks young he has not actually been young for many years. There is a certain danger which Fili reads in them, danger and a challenge which lights up his every nerve.

          “Fili,” he says simply and holds his hand out. He neglects the customary _At your service_ because those words send entirely too many delicious images racing through his brain.

          “Kili,” the other dwarf answers and takes Fili’s hand in a hard grasp. Fili falls in love with that hand as it grips his own, the leather of an archer’s glove smooth against his palm, the calloused fingertips pressing on his skin. Lightning shoots through him and Fili is more aware of the air pressing against him, more aware of the small dust particles floating in the shafts of afternoon sunlight than he ever has been.

          All too soon the demands of courtesy and the remembrance that there are others present lead to their hands being separated. Fili feels empty when that hand leaves his and from the brief flash of a frown on Kili’s face, he can guess that the other feels the same.

          “Gloin’s just taken him on as his newest employee,” Bofur says, kindly not mentioning the tension which has sprung, thick as molasses, in the room. “The heathen’s getting unmanageable now and he can’t spend all of his time at the forge like he used to.” This last part is said with a wink in Gloin’s direction and a curse is hurled at Bofur. Bofur grins into his mug and gestures at Fili. “Well sit yourself down and have a pint then.”

          Fili does so, flinching when the side of his thigh brushes Kili’s as he sits. His eyes flit down to the table and he can see that Kili is clenching his fists around the handle of his mug.

          “Would have thought that you’d choose a hunter’s life instead of a blacksmith’s,” Fili offers up as conversation. “Unless that’s just for decoration.” Fili jerks his head towards Kili’s bow.

          Kili’s eyes narrow in a swift glare and Fili could slap himself. There’s no more of that wonder and amazement in his eyes— just wounded pride and a fierceness which touches Fili deep in depths he did not know he possessed. Kili bares his teeth in a mockery of a smile and Fili feels his heart stutter before it pounds faster. He has never been much of a hunter, but now he understands the thrill—to have something utterly wild in front of you and the desire to have it succumb to your touch, to attempt to tame something beautiful and strong.

          “If that’s what you think—“Kili begins, but he is interrupted by Bofur’s timely slamming of a mug in front of Fili.

          “I meant no offense,” Fili mumbles before he takes a deep sip. Kili’s expression softens by millimeters, just before he grins in a way which sends pleasant chills down Fili’s spine.

          “Why don’t I show you that it’s not just a decoration?” Fili has never felt so stripped, not even when he was receiving a scolding from Thorin, as he does underneath Kili’s eyes. “Come with me this evening. We’ll find some game and be back in the morning.”

          “If you’re that desperate to prove yourself then fine,” Fili hears himself agreeing before he takes another sip. Inwardly, the part of him which has soaked up Thorin’s lessons like thirsty earth screams in horror. He has never done anything spontaneous, never goaded another, and has certainly never agreed to go into the wilderness alone with someone he just met.

          Kili’s savagely sweet smile is enough to make Fili sputter on his ale. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and tries to ignore Bofur’s inquisitive look. His pulse pounds loudly, the sound echoing through his ears. He feels as if he has drunk too much, even though he’s only finished a little more than half of his glass.

          “I’m off,” he announces to Bofur and he shoves his chair back from the table. “I’ll be here for you in an hour princess.”

          He’s never talked this way before and he can see the surprise in Bofur’s wide eyes but the slight curling of Kili’s lips makes it all worthwhile. Heat pools in Fili’s stomach. He’s scaring himself with how reckless he’s behaving, but he cannot seem to stop himself. As Kili glares at him, he has the oddest desire to stride up to him and cover those pursed lips with his own. He almost walks over to do just that before he recalls exactly who and where he is. Fili gathers the last shreds of his rational mind and rips his eyes away from Kili’s narrowed eyes. He slaps a few coppers down on the table and leaves before he can do any more damage to his reputation.

          As Fili starts to trudge down the street the bright sharpness of his elation fades, to be replaced by a sinking regret and doubt. If Thorin could have seen his little performance in the tavern he would have yelled loud enough to bring the rafters down. That was not how he was raised. That person who spat out all those taunts was not Fili, the Heir of Durin. Fili swallows hard as he thinks how easily he became that other person, how comfortable their skin felt as he slipped into it. With difficulty he banks the heat spreading through his body and tries to calm the excitement which courses through him. Somehow, it feels a little like being less alive.

          Such is the lot of the Heir of Durin. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to get this out, but I didn't want to end this until they'd actually had a conversation because otherwise it wouldn't be any fun at all would it?


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunting and maybe a little something more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah man, you guys are all awesome. Seriously, I mean it. I just hope that I live up to expectations. 
> 
> Also Fili!centric chapter. There was supposed to be more Kili here but oh well, can't have everything.

Kili’s eyes bore into Fili’s back as the blonde dwarf leaves the tavern and Kili hopes that Fili can feel his gaze searing into his spine. _What a prick. What a beautiful, glorious prick._ Kili tries to ignore the sudden tightness of his breeches and decides that he won’t be getting up from this table any time soon.

          Bofur notices his look. “You’re aiming high lad. Most of the younglings have already tried to throw themselves at him. No luck for any of them.”

          “Well, they’re not me,” Kili murmurs, as he twirls a fork around his fingers.

          Bofur grabs his wrist in a grip harsh enough to shake Kili from his thoughts of Fili’s eyes and the touch of their hands together. Surprised, Kili looks at him. The once friendly look in Bofur’s eyes is gone, replaced by suspicion.

          “Here now, don’t be trying to drag him into any bedroom games. I’m rather fond of him.”

          Kili swallows hard. Prick he might be, but there must be something decent in Fili to inspire such loyalty. “I’m…I’m not,” he stammers. Bofur’s grip relaxes, though his expression does not. “I…I just…” He helplessly looks around for something to save him. How does he explain to a veritable stranger that when he saw Fili it felt like the jarring pieces of his life realigned, that in the second that their hands touched he was more aroused, more _alive_ than he’d ever been? That every second Fili was looking at him the only thought running through his mind was that he would be happy to drown in those blue eyes?

          “I don’t even know him but…” Kili trails off and he viciously chews his lower lip. His turmoil must show on his face, because Bofur pats him on the back with a rueful smile chasing the edges of his lips.

          “Sorry laddie, I just…I don’t know you and several people have tried to play that game with him already.”

          “He’s gorgeous enough for it,” Kili mumbles, then flushes when Bofur chuckles.

          “Not just that…he thinks that they’re trying to bed his status and there might be something in that.”

          Kili, puzzled, shakes his head. “I don’t…”

          “There’s a lot to be gained, even in exile, from taking an Heir of Durin to your bed,” Bofur explains. Kili raises his eyebrows in hopeless confusion. Heir of Durin. Probably…important people. History has never been his strong point. “Someone in the ancient lineage to King Under the Mountain.” Still nothing. “Royalty, son.”

          “That’s why you called him prince when he first walked in.” Kili is pleased with himself for working this detail out on his own, but the deadpan expression on Bofur’s face tells him that this is not as impressive as he might think.

          “Good job lad.” Kili glares at him, but there’s no real heat behind the look. Not that he would admit it to himself, but it’s exhilarating to have someone tease him without the intent of punching him in the face immediately afterward.

          Kili pushes a piece of perfectly roasted pork around on his plate. Royalty. That certainly complicated matters. But he has never been one to allow overwhelming odds to daunt him. It helps when he thinks that Fili feels it as well—that overpowering tug which comes from deep within.  

          Silence reigns at their table but it is thoughtful and not uncomfortable. Kili finally feels his stomach start to swell and bulge and he sprawls back in his chair. Bofur finally breaks the quiet.

          “I’m sorry if I seemed harsh earlier to you, it’s just…I think I’m the closest thing that lad has to a real friend. I’m not going to watch him get hurt.”

          “Believe me,” Kili says as he sits up and pushes his face a little closer to Bofur’s, “hurting him is the absolute last thing that I want to do.”

           

 -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

          The late afternoon sun’s rays stretch across the market as Fili walks to Bofur’s. The shops are beginning to close up and most of the stalls have already been shut down. There are still a few hours of light left, so he and Kili will have plenty of time to reach the wilds, catch their game, and eat before complete darkness falls. Providing of course that they actually can catch something.

          Kili sits on a stool outside the shop, legs stretched out in front of him, head craned back against the wall and eyes closed. His lips are parted and Fili doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything more adorable. It makes him want to kick the other dwarf.

          _If you’re just going to sleep I can always come back later._ He squashes the pithy remark before it can escape. Instead, he rolls his shoulders in discomfort as he coughs. Kili sleeps on. Fili clears his throat louder, using all the air in his lungs. Kili’s mouth twitches, but then it goes slack again. Fili narrows his eyes and contemplates picking him up and carrying him over his shoulder, but there’s always the chance that he wouldn’t wake up even then. Also it would be entirely inappropriate.

          Fili settles for the loudest cough yet while gently nudging Kili’s leg with the toe of his boot. Kili’s eyelashes flutter and then slowly open while he yawns widely and stretches like a cat. Fili thinks that the entire display is almost obscene but he can’t help the chill which crawls down his spine and settles in his groin. Fili sighs impatiently and Kili finally deigns to notice him.

          “I was waiting for you.” He rubs his knuckles across his eyes and stands up, stretches again (does one dwarf really need to stretch all that much?) and fiddles with his quiver. “Thought that you’d lost your nerve.”

          It is a blatant challenge and the unsubtle delivery of the insult irritates Fili more than the actual taunt itself. Still, he has resolved to be himself, to think before he speaks, and in this, as in all matters, act in a way which would not bring shame to him or to Thorin. So Fili quietly replies, “I told you that I was coming.”

          Kili’s expression doesn’t change, but Fili sees the slump in his shoulders, imperceptible to anyone who isn’t watching Kili with the intensity of a hawk choosing its prey. Without saying a word Kili turns on his heel and starts down the street. Fili follows him, feeling as though he just failed some test.

          They don’t speak for the duration of their trip to the woods and the silence grates on Fili’s nerves. It gives him time to think just how mad this is, him running off hunting with someone that he just met. All the lessons his uncle taught him about caution drone in his mind and Fili’s conscious that he’s violating every single one. And then Kili is speaking and Fili thinks that even if he is being led into an ambush if he could hear that voice it might all be worth it.

          “If you could stop making so much noise that would be nice.” Even if that voice sounds snide and condescending.

          “I’m barely making any noise at all,” Fili protests before he realizes that it makes him sound like a child. Kili just rolls his eyes and walks forward, bow already in hand.

          It’s not quite a walk, Fili decides as he watches the taller dwarf go forward through the trees. It’s more of a slink, predatory and smooth. It reminds him of the wolf pack he saw hunting once. It speaks of years of familiarity within the wilds and despite his initial embarrassment Fili tries to mimic Kili’s movements.

          He is so focused on watching the effortless slide of Kili’s body through the trees that he misses the moment in which the brunette dwarf stops. He almost walks overtop him but he is stopped by Kili’s firm hand planted in the middle of his abdomen. His skin seems to burn through the layers of clothes where Kili’s hand has touched him and Fili tries to hold in his soft inhale. He’s not successful and Kili shoots him a dirty look as he makes a furious gesture which Fili guesses is a sign for silence. Kili deepens his glare as he jabs a finger at a small clearing ahead of them.

          A small doe picks nervously at the tufts of grass. She takes a small step forward into a shaft of light filtering down from the trees. The sight strikes Fili as so breathtaking beautiful that it sends an ache through his heart. He’s so focused on her huge brown eyes as she picks up her head and surveys her surroundings that he misses Kili reaching over his shoulder for his quiver. The soft whisper of a bowstring being drawn does catch his attention and Fili glances to his side to see Kili’s eyes focused on the deer.

          Rays from the sunset catch Kili’s face, throwing the planes of his cheeks and brow into sharp relief. His dark eyes see nothing else except the doe in front of him and his breathing is light and controlled. Everything about him is coiled tension and predatory intensity and Fili thinks that this is the moment where everything is lost, where the last hope of him saving himself was utterly ruined.

          Kili exhales and looses the arrow. It flies through the air to land in the doe’s chest. She falls gracelessly to the forest ground, Kili already moving as he leaps over a downed log. Fili follows in his wake, determined not to be left behind in any part of this. Kili gropes at his belt and comes up with a short hunting knife as he kneels by the doe. Fili leans over him. The doe’s breathing is labored and her eyes are already glassy. Without a pause or hint of regret Kili brings his knife to her throat and cuts it in one hard slash.

          Blood gushes over his hands and the doe’s eyes close. Kili looks over his shoulder at Fili and though there is nothing ashamed in his eyes, there is a spark of defiance, as if he is waiting for Fili to judge him, to run away. The look softens after a moment but Kili still looks as though he is bracing himself for rejection.

          “Go get a fire started,” Fili orders, his voice thick after Kili visibly relaxes. “I’ll finish up here.”

          A breeze blows and throws a shadow across Kili’s face, but Fili could swear that his lips had ghosted a smile across his face. Kili stands and hastily wipes his bloody hands on his pants. Fili, always fastidious, feels disgusted, but not quite as much as he should.

          When Kili walks by him, Fili feels fingertips brush across his cheek and hair. It might have been an accident but Fili knows that it wasn’t.

 -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

 

          Thorin frowns as he shifts against the hard rock and tries to get comfortable. Dwalin, the lucky bastard, is already fast asleep with nothing but a jagged rock face for a pillow. He has always envied his friend who can fall asleep on the harshest terrain and seems to even prefer it. Thorin has become too used to the comforts of domicile and now finds it hard to seek comfort from the harsher elements of the earth.

          They’ve made their camp for the night in an outcropping, tall rocks shielding them from any unfriendly eyes which may be watching. The campfire still burns but thankfully the wood doesn’t send much smoke in the air. The ponies are hobbled and grazing peacefully, as are many of his companions. Thorin grunts in dissatisfaction as he finally surrenders to insomnia and fumbles in his bag for his pipe.

          He lights it and puffs quietly for a moment. Oddly enough, he feels more fatherly on the road than he has in years living with Fili. He wonders how his nephew is doing, wonders if Fili has kept up his routine of reading in front of the fire or if loneliness and an empty house have forced him to go to bed early.

          “Can’t sleep?” Balin’s voice is not an unwelcome interruption to his thoughts and Thorin smiles wanly as his friend sits down carefully beside him. A comfortable silence stretches out before Balin speaks again. “You’re not worried about him are you?”

          Though Thorin rolls his eyes he is secretly pleased that Balin knows exactly where his thoughts have turned. “No, he’s a good lad. He’ll be fine.”

          “A good lad,” Balin echoes. Thorin feels the sly look before Balin continues, “Reminds me of his parents.”

          Thorin nods. He thinks that he might know where Balin is trying to go with this conversation. It’s come up more and more lately and while he’s not opposed to the idea, he also doesn’t want to interrupt the comfortable pattern which their lives have taken lately.

          “What about the other?” Balin continues. Thorin stares determinedly towards the horizon. “He’ll be almost of age now. Surely it couldn’t be dangerous to bring him to Ered Luin.” Thorin still looks stonily ahead but Balin still continues. “He should be with his family.”

          “He is,” Thorin finally bites off. Though he normally welcomes Balin’s counsel and questioning this has always been an uncomfortable topic. In all of his life there has never been a decision which he has agonized over more, wondering if there were any different way it could have been done. He always comes to the conclusion that there was not.

          “You know what I mean,” Balin says. He looks like he wants to continue but a wary look at Thorin silences him from any further impertinence.

          Thorin bites his lip and finally turns to Balin. “There was nothing else I could have done.” His voice sounds distinctly un-kingly, but there has never been judgment in Balin’s eyes. “It was better for everyone, including the innocents which would have gotten caught in the struggle.”

          The weight of his grandfather’s crown presses heavily on him, hunching his head into his shoulders. It has never been an easy burden to bear but for the last seventy years it has been almost unbearable, especially whenever he looks into Fili’s trusting eyes. What would his nephew say if Thorin revealed the huge lie which his life has been?

          “That was true then, but now?” Balin lays a heavy hand on Thorin’s forearm. It’s meant to be comforting but instead it feels like the burden of responsibility and the weight of ages pressing down on him.

          “Think on it laddie,” Balin tells him before he stands up with a grunt of exertion and walks away.

          Thorin grunts in farewell and stares at the smoke escaping from his pipe. If Balin’s purpose in visiting was to enable him to sleep then he failed horrifically.

 -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

          The night passes in silence. Fili would have thought that maybe they would have spoken more but awkwardness clogs his throat whenever he even thinks about saying something. There are so many questions he wants to ask that he can’t even think of one. Instead he satisfies his curiosity by sneaking glances at Kili out of the corner of his eye. He can tell that Kili is doing the same by the way that Kili’s eyes dart away whenever Fili looks at him.

          Fili is out of practice in the art of cleaning a kill but his hands still remember the task. It’s not fast by any means, and he thinks that Kili could have done it better (and Kili obviously thinks so as well from the looks he’s shooting him) but eventually Fili shears off several cuts of meat and spits it over the fire.

          After the food is gone silence descends once more. Now that their jaws aren’t busy chewing there’s an expectation of speech, one which Fili finds that he is incapable of fulfilling. Kili finally sighs as he looks up at the night sky.

          “I’ll take the first watch.” Fili nods and bites his lip in regret. He should say something, but what? It would be rude to ask Kili where he came from and besides, Fili finds that he doesn’t actually care that much. Kili is here now, dark, mysterious, and utterly enticing. And Fili cannot even talk to him.

          Instead he throws himself onto his side and pulls his coat tightly across his body. It feels like covering himself with shame. The last sight he remembers before sleep claims him is Kili sitting by the fire, chin resting on his knees. Fili thinks that Kili’s eyes might flicker towards him but he might just be imagining it.

          That night Fili’s dreams are not of the laughing woman or of Kili beckoning towards him. Instead, it is blood and terror to which his mind turns. In his dream Fili is running but whether it is towards or away from something he has no idea. A scream rips from his throat in response to the chaos around him. Hands paw at him but Fili tears himself away. “Mother!” Fili screams, even though he has never screamed for that woman in his life.

          Darkness engulfs him and Fili shrieks again, small and lost in this world full of death and horror. He whirls around as the last of the light disappears and he is left utterly alone. Again the hands reach for him, except this time they are cruelly clawed and leave scratches down his face and body. Fili screams again as strong hands grab his shoulders and start to shake him—

          “Fili!” A strange and yet familiar voice calls his name and Fili’s eyes fly open. He gasps as he looks around his environment. Still caught in the fright of the dream he struggles against the hands which hold him until he looks into the concerned dark brown eyes above him.

          Fili’s entire body tingles when he realizes that Kili is bending over him, hands on his shoulders, face entirely too close to his. The tips of Kili’s hair brush his skin, sending small sparks over his face where they touch.

          “You all right?” Kili asks and there is nothing but concern in his eyes. “You were thrashing and yelling…” Kili trails off and swallows. He looks almost ashamed but his eyes do not leave Fili’s.

          “I was just…I had a dream.” The words sound childish to Fili’s ears but Kili still looks concerned. “Just…just a dream,” Fili says, but he cannot stop the slight tremble which goes through his body.

          “It’s ok,” Kili soothes and Fili wonders why he feels so comfortable here with someone who he doesn’t even know, and then wonders why his hand moves of its own accord. He cups Kili’s cheek and though he doesn’t know why, it feels _right_ , the palm of his hand against rough stubble. Kili tenses before he leans his head into the touch. “Just a dream,” Kili whispers, and the sound of his voice, low and smooth erases the last lingering remnants of horror. “I’m here.”

          Fili feels a weight in his heart lessen when Kili says those words, weight he didn’t even know he was carrying until it was gone. His thumb traces over Kili’s cheekbone. Fili realizes that even though the dream is no longer at the forefront of his mind he is still shaking. It only gets worse when Kili leans closer to him, close enough for Fili to feel his soft breath over his face.

          Fili knows what’s about to happen but he finds himself frozen, whether in fear or anticipation he’s unsure. He’s so busy worrying that he almost misses when Kili’s lips tentatively brush his own.

          Kissing Kili is as different from kissing Mim as night is from day. Kili’s lips are soft against his, though a few chapped places catch his lips in a tug that sends a chill down Fili’s spine. The contact is little more than a brush at first, hesitant touches which cause Fili’s breath to sputter erratically. Somehow, the hand which was cupping Kili’s cheek moves to card through his hair and cradle the back of his head.

          Kili’s weight rests on Fili and the sensation is not at all uncomfortable. Fili’s mouth opens in a soundless gasp when Kili begins to suckle on his lower lip, dark stubble catching against blonde beard. Kili hums against his lips and Fili can feel the other dwarf’s lips curl against his in a smile. His mind only begins working again when Kili’s hands pull lightly at his braids and Fili hears a loud moan escape his lips.

          With more force than he actually intended, Fili pushes Kili away. He can hear the heavy sound of the air escaping out of Kili’s lungs as the slender dwarf’s back hits the ground. Shame and pleasure war within Fili as he swiftly kneels down beside Kili and takes two handfuls of his cloak.

          Kili’s eyes question but his lips quirk upwards in a smirk. _Those lips were just on mine,_ Fili thinks as he stares at them and a chill runs through his body, even though it is a warm night. “If you wanted to top all you had to do was tell me,” Kili murmurs as he closes his eyes and strains upwards towards Fili.

          Fili shakes him, hard enough that Kili’s eyes snap open. Indignation, confusion and even fear crash against each other, enough to make his head spin. _Moaned like a whore,_ Fili can hear voices in his head saying. That moan has never escaped his lips until now; he has never lost control of his body until now. And the reason why is clutched within his grasp.

          “What do you think you’re doing?” Kili angrily demands as he wraps his hands around Fili’s wrists. The archer tugs at him but Fili is stronger and angrier. “Let go of me,” Kili snarls, all playfulness and softness gone. His legs somehow wrap around Fili’s waist and they tussle for a few moments before Fili gains the upper hand by sheer bulk. He pins Kili to the ground, hands securing his wrists on either side of his head.

          Kili bares his teeth and growls at him and Fili swallows deeply and shivers as his body reacts to the sound. Fili works around the lump which has appeared in his throat and he tries to make his voice sound as even and cool as possible.

          “Don’t ever do that again,” he warns, but there’s a quaver in his voice.

          “You liked it,” Kili tells him and Fili’s grip on his wrists tightens in warning. “You _liked_ it,” Kili stubbornly insists.

          “Don’t ever do it again!” There is no hint of command in Fili’s voice, instead there is a desperate plea for Kili not to state the obvious, maybe even for Kili to explain just what has happened to him. Why has his life suddenly spiraled out of his control in a single day, all because of this dwarf who is underneath him? What makes him so special that Fili felt his whole body _sing_ the second he saw him, like a punch in the gut, like jumping into a cool lake on a hot day? Fili thrives on the orderly and predictable, he craves control and routine is what makes him able to function.         

          Which is why it’s doubly surprising to him when he suddenly leans forward and presses his lips against Kili’s. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I said slow build? I really meant it!!!!!!!!
> 
> -cackles-


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cuddles, sparring and a nightmare.
> 
> Maybe not in that order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh, sorry for the semi-long wait...I don't have any excuses actually. 
> 
> So here, have some cuddles.

The sound of birds’ pre-dawn singing rouses Kili. It’s a gentle awakening, all slow realization and comfortable surfacing to full consciousness. Kili shivers at the morning chill and tries to pull his cloak tighter around himself.

          He yawns and shifts, only to come into contact with something solid and warm. Kili flicks his eyes open to see Fili’s immobile form sitting next to him. Kili’s back presses against Fili’s thigh and a small tingle of warmth runs through Kili’s stomach. Fili, upon hearing the disturbance, gazes down at him and his lips tilt upwards in a tired half-smile. Kili wishes that he would just part those lips in a wide, face-splitting grin. _Because you would look so beautiful if you truly smiled,_ he thinks to Fili. “Morning,” Fili says simply.

          Kili basks in the attention, feeling his chest expand to truly incredible proportions. He has never experienced the simple pleasure of waking up next to another warm body. He has snuck out of more windows and cellars than he cares to think about but he would gladly erase all those escapes from his mind if instead all he could remember is the solid comfort of Fili’s leg against his body.

          Kili hums in response and he reaches over his shoulder and brushes his fingertips over Fili’s knee, a question in his movements. Fili sighs and absent-mindedly runs his hand over Kili’s shoulder. Kili ducks his head to hide the huge, idiotic grin which covers his face. A simple touch shouldn’t make him feel this good, better than any sex he’s ever had, but a touch from Fili’s fingers is practically magic to him. Unable to stop himself, Kili leans back into the comfort of Fili’s warmth. It’s another balm to his heart when Fili’s throat rumbles out a soft noise and the other dwarf’s hand rests against his neck.

 No one else has ever made him feel this way, as if he’s standing on a swiftly deteriorating riverbank. And like the crumbling sand, Fili is unpredictable and dangerous. Kili remembers all too well the pounding of his heart, partly from fear, partly from arousal as Fili pinned him to the ground and screamed in his face. The frantic denials hadn’t made sense to him—Fili had kissed him back, he’d _felt_ it. He’d heard the moan resonate through his body as his fingers had tangled in the blonde mane.

          And then to be confronted with that desperate face and the fierce strength in those hands...There had been anger in those blue eyes but underneath there was confusion and even a little bit of fear. Kili had recognized the fear—it was the same which he was feeling, the fear that he’d met someone and they had managed to change his life in ways which he couldn’t even fathom. Kili had wondered if maybe the difference between them was that he had chosen to follow the path laid before him while Fili had decided to turn away.

          So when Fili hauled him up and smashed their lips together it had stopped Kili’s mind for a moment. From Fili’s words Kili had been sure that the other dwarf would never have anything to do with him again, that he would have to struggle on with his life and never know that brief bliss which he had felt while stretched out on top of Fili.

Fili’s kiss was awkward and indelicate, lacking experience but full of a nervous desire.  Kili had responded instantly, moving his lips against Fili’s in a lighter, more subtle movement. Fili was nothing if not a quick learner and had easily transitioned to a softer, lingering embrace which left both of them clutching each other.

          They had parted and wordless questions hung between them: _Who are you? Where did you come from? Why?_  Kili had brought his lips back to Fili’s and though the blonde had stiffened, he did not reject the physical affection which Kili was offering. Instead, his hands, endearing in their hesitancy, had reached for Kili’s hair and twirled the ends around his fingers. Kili had fallen asleep watching Fili prowl around the edges of the fire, his movements restless but steady.

          So it is indeed a solace to find Fili next to him, to realize that Fili, as unsure and conflicted as he still is, has not fled from the very sight of him. In Kili’s life of conquests it’s not much, but Kili feels as though he’s just won a huge battle. Kili realizes, even though he’s not sure how, that Fili is _more_ than all of his previous lovers combined, that Fili is the mithril vein in the mountain. Something hot, fierce and wild sears through him, pain which is so pleasurable and is inextricably linked with _Fili_ in Kili’s body.

          “It’s almost dawn,” Fili murmurs without looking at him. “We should start back soon if you’re to be at the forge when it opens.”

          Kili frowns as he sits up. He can’t deny the wisdom behind Fili’s words and the thought that the other dwarf took his schedule into consideration makes his heart give a little flutter but he would much rather stay in the forest. He senses that here, lost in the wilds, Fili feels more open. Maybe it is because here there are no prying eyes but whatever the reason Kili knows that if they had been in the village last night there would have been no chance of Fili ever kissing him.

          “Come on, if we start off early enough we’ll have a little time for hunting.” Fili stands and winces as his back cracks loudly. “I’m sure Bombur would love some fresh meat to cook for breakfast.”

          Kili rises as well and reckless daring fills him as the sun finally begins to appear. “Are you saying that I have to prove myself to you again?”

          Fili glances sharply over at him but the harsh lines of his face relax when he sees the smile on Kili’s face. He even favors Kili with that half-smile which always threatens to become more but never quite makes it.

          “Well, last night might have been a fluke.” Kili wonders why Fili always looks surprised whenever something witty or sly escapes his lips. The almost shy smile which Fili offers him almost puts a skip in Kili’s step as he kicks dirt over the remnants of their fire. “I just want to make sure.”

          “Well, I was never able to deny a pretty face anything,” Kili responds. From Fili’s silence he thinks that maybe he might have pushed too hard. Wincing, he turns to face Fili, only to be surprised by the violent shade of crimson dusting the blonde’s cheeks. Fili meets his eyes for a brief second before he turns away.

          “Hey, it’s ok,” Kili soothes as he tries to touch Fili. Fili bats his hand away but Kili will not be deterred and eventually turns Fili to face him. “What’s wrong?” His fingers curl around Fili’s wrist and Fili’s pulse thrums against his touch.

          Fili still won’t look at him and his teeth ruthlessly punish his lower lip. “It’s ok, I’m sorry,” Kili whispers, pressing his lips to Fili’s temple. Fili turns up to him and takes his chin between thumb and forefinger as they share in a kiss that’s more about reassurance than desire.

          This kiss lasts longer and quickly becomes more heated as Fili pushes himself up into Kili’s body. When they finally separate Kili exhales shakily and presses his forehead to Fili’s enjoying the sensation of mingled breath.

          “Where did you come from?” Fili wonders, stroking a finger down Kili’s cheek.

          “Was wondering the same about you actually,” Kili responds. He snorts out a disbelieving laugh as his fingers search out an intricately carved silver bead. “Who are you?”

          “Heir to the line of Durin,” Fili answers, and though the damn half-smile appears again it doesn’t reach his eyes.

 -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

          Since the dragon stole their homeland Thorin doesn’t think that he’s known a single peaceful night. Too many horrors linger in his mind—the image of friends burnt to cinders by the dragon’s rage, the bloody remnants of his brother and grandfather at the gates of Moria, the shattered remnants of the first life he’d tried to scrape together after Moria…failures all, and every time he closes his eyes they gleefully arrive to mock him.

          The dream starts out peacefully enough—it’s just him, Dwalin and Balin moving quietly through the woods, speaking only when necessary. Several hounds sniff at trails in front of them and their ponies snuffle quietly in the forest stillness. Thorin feels the hefty weight of the spear in his hand and knows what they seek—boar. Anxiety and wild anticipation fill him, the combination only ever occurring when he seeks out dangerous prey. From the way that Dwalin’s hand flexes on the haft of his spear Thorin knows that his oldest friend feels it as well. His heart beats faster and he just knows that he’ll laugh in a very un-kingly manner when the dogs finally pick up the scent.

          Thorin wants to stop the dream now, wants to force himself to awaken but he already knows that all of his efforts will be for naught. He feels like a helpless spectator locked in his own body as something hits him from the side and he tumbles out of his saddle. In the dream he looks around wildly for their attackers as he hears Balin’s grunts and Dwalin’s harsh battle cries.

          He’s not sure of how it happens but everything shimmers around him and suddenly his companions are missing and now it’s only him with the animalistic snarls of his enemies around him. The sword’s weight is a familiar comfort in his hand and he’s faced much worse odds than this. He is not afraid.

          Until he hears the scream pierce through the darkness and his blood stills in his veins. “Dis!” He roars as he scans through the forms of the orcs surrounding him. What have they done with his sweet sister? He slices through the bodies pushing against him as he hears his sister scream yet again, fear and agony in the sound.

          “Dis!” he roars, as though he can make her appear through his sheer willpower.

          His foot catches on the body of a corpse and he trips onto the ground. His hands catch the brunt of his fall but his sword flies out of his grasp, leaving him alone and unarmed in the face of enemies. He still hears his sister scream and he forces himself upright before he begins fighting with his very nails—nothing else matters but saving the little family he has left.

          He stumbles yet again and suddenly Dis is in front of him. She is covered in blood, both black orc and the sickening bright scarlet of their own race, but she is alive, Mahal be blessed, mercifully _alive—_ except her eyes speak of fury and loathing and those emotions are directed at him.

          Thorin swallows heavily as Dis stalks toward him, her teeth bared in a feral snarl. “Dis…what?” He asks as she stands before him.

          She lays a hand on his cheek and rests it there against his skin before pulling away, leaving his face smeared with blood. “May Mahal forgive you for what you do,” she whispers—

          Thorin awakens with a start, thankful that the rest of his company is asleep, except for the lone dwarf who stands guard. He settles back into his bedroll, even though he knows that he’ll get no more sleep. He turns over the events in his dream as he searches for deeper meaning and comes up with no epiphanies, other than his conversation with Balin the night before awoke certain memories which he’s been doing his level best to bury for the past sixty-five years.

          The soft pink of impending dawn at least reassures him that he’s not missing much in the way of sleep. He stares at the horizon and thinks that he’ll feel better when this whole trip is done and he’s back in Ered Luin, where he belongs.

 -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

          Fili paces around the practice yard, swords in hand. He’s been practicing his forms for hours now until sweat runs down the crevice of his back and though his body is exhausted it was his mind he wanted to quiet, and that unfortunately, is still active. He cannot rid himself of Kili’s smile, of his quiet, effortless grace or the way he murmurs when he sleeps. He spent all night sitting next to Kili, watching the firelight play across his features, reaching out and brushing a strand of hair away from his eyes. Each touch felt like a forbidden treasure, one which Fili hoards close to his heart.

          Fili growls as he finally gives up for the day, sheathing his swords in one smooth motion. Sweat beads on his forehead and he carelessly wipes it away as he sits down on a bench. The afternoon sun is low in the sky, making the whole yard a comfortable mix of oranges and yellows. A smile darts around Fili’s face as the perfect idea chases itself around his mind.

          There’s almost a slight bounce to his step as he walks down the street to Gloin’s shop. The bell rings as he steps inside and Fili walks past Oin in the desk before he looks up. Fili waves distractedly at him and motions his intent to go to the forge area. Oin nods and goes back to paperwork and Fili ducks his head down to hide a happy little smile before he pushes the door which leads to the smithing area.

          He can hear the distinctive ring of hammer striking anvil and the hissing of red-hot metal shoved into water. The air is hot and heavy around him and a new crop of sweat beads up on his hairline just from standing near the fire. Fili rounds a corner and stops as he is confronted with one of the best sights he could have ever hoped for.

          Kili’s back is towards him, though it takes Fili a moment to recognize him. The unruly dark hair which so captivated him previously is now bound in a tight bun at the base of his skull. His white shirt is soaked with sweat and sticking to his back, which allows Fili’s eyes to trace the contour of each muscle moving as Kili lifts up his hammer. Afterwards Kili inspects his work with such a critical eye that it makes Fili smile. Kili shoves the metal into the barrel of cold water before he sets it down carefully on the fireplace then rubs the back of his neck with one gloved hand. It leaves a wet smear of soot and sweat across the skin and Fili suddenly wants nothing more than to lick it away.

          He thinks that he should have gotten used to the sudden spurts of lust which flare through his body but Kili turns around and Fili doesn’t think that he’ll ever get used to this, the way Kili’s chest catches the light, the sight of a bead of sweat rolling down his collarbone to disappear beneath his shirt, the swift change from assured to awkward in Kili’s posture.

          “Been there long?” Kili asks. His hand gropes for a jug of water and he drinks deeply, never taking his eyes off of Fili.

          “Long enough,” Fili responds, relishing in the fact that for once he feels as though he is in control of this encounter. “Finished for the day?”

          Kili shrugs. “Suppose. Why?” The sudden wary look in his eyes makes Fili more pleased than he’d like to admit to himself. He justifies his feelings by rationalizing that it’s only fair, since Kili made him stumble so much in the beginning.

          “Because.” Fili jerks his head towards the door; a gesture which he finds is innate in those born to command. Kili follows, wiping his hands on his pants. Fili wonders if he’s had time to wash the blood off of those pants and then decides that he really doesn’t want to know.

          “Oin, we’re off,” Fili calls as they move through the small business area. Before Oin has a chance to grab his ear trumpet the door slams behind them, releasing them both into the freedom of the open street. Fili feels a certain glee which he has only felt once before, when he managed to hide from Balin to avoid his first Khuzdul lesson. Thorin had given him such a tongue lashing for immature behavior that he never tried to skip work again. But skiving off feels right if it is Kili sharing the experience.

          “Want to tell me where we’re going?” Kili asks as he lengthens his strides to catch up to Fili. “Or did you just want to make sure that I never find work anywhere?”

          “You’ll see,” Fili answers. He can feel the looks of the dwarves following him as he walks down the street and he sees several turn to their companions and whisper behind their hands. Fili pushes that sight to the back of his mind and concentrates instead of Kili’s footfalls coinciding with his, but he knows that image will come up later to bother him.

          Kili stops abruptly once he sees where Fili has brought them. Fili turns back to look at him, raising an eyebrow in question.

          “This isn’t a good idea,” Kili says, his voice oddly flat and tight.

          “Why not?” Fili asks as he steps closer to Kili. He expects the brunette to hold his ground, to force him out of his personal space, but instead Kili takes half a step backwards and seems to shrink until he’s Fili’s height. “You showed me what you were good at last night, now you can see what I’m good at.”

          “Long as it’s just you, that’ll be fine,” Kili grits out. His posture is tense and his body is turned like he’s getting ready to flee. He reminds Fili of the doe last night, all fear and energy rolled into one nervous bundle.

          “What do you mean?” Fili’s brain is slowly working out Kili’s meaning, but it’s taking him too long.

          “I mean that…look, you show me how good you are with swords and then just…” Kili’s voice trails off several times before he throws his hands up in surrender. “Look, just don’t ask me to spar with you, all right?”

          Fili cocks his head to the side, feeling a stone sink into the pit of his stomach as he watches Kili’s shoulders curl inwards and a red flush creep up the younger’s neck. “What..?” he asks and Kili whirls in his face, embarrassed fury lighting up his eyes.

          “No one ever taught me how to handle a sword!” he finally admits. When the truth is out Kili storms away a few paces, with his back towards Fili, but he does not leave.

          Fili ponders for half a moment. Dwarf fathers teach their sons how to handle swords, axes and war-hammers—Thorin taught him the basics of all those weapons. It is a widely respected tradition which has been passed down through the generations. For Kili not to have been taught…it answers some questions, but raises far more.

          Fili follows Kili until he is standing directly behind the archer. Kili barely inclines his head but Fili knows that his every move is being tracked. Kili finally turns to face him and the bitterness and self-loathing in his eyes is almost overwhelming to Fili, who has never had reason to feel any such emotions.

          “No one wanted to teach the fatherless boy swordplay in my old village,” Kili says, a twisted smile obscuring his handsome features. “No one could be bothered sharing such a private matter with what they were all sure was a little bastard child.”

          “You learned archery,” Fili points out. His hope was that mentioning archery would work to cheer Kili. It has exactly the opposite effect as Kili barks out a mirthless laugh.

          “I taught myself archery. I stole my first bow out of a scrap heap and made my own arrows. I practiced until my fingers were bloody. I worked until I could pay one of the hunters in our village to show me the more advanced work that I hadn’t figured out on my own. He begrudged me every second, but he took my coins happily enough.” Kili shakes his head and clenches his fist. “Just…don’t ask me to,” he whispers.

          The defeated note in Kili’s voice is enough to set Fili’s teeth on edge. He feels a deep burning rage which he has never come close to feeling before. He wants to find every single dwarf who ever had cause to hurt Kili and he wants to cause worse harm to them and he could do that with a smile on his face. The thought scares him and Fili shakily returns to what he knows. He knows the feeling of the hard ground underneath his boots. He knows the weight of a sword in his hand. And he knows Kili, as strange and unbelievable as it may sound. He knows instinctively that although Kili asks to be left alone honoring those wishes would be the worst possible outcome.

          “Come,” Fili orders as he grabs Kili’s wrist and tugs him forward. Kili stumbles for a moment before he regains his balance. He tries to dig his heels in once he sees where Fili is taking him but it’s not really even a full effort.

          “Fili please,” Kili whines but Fili does not release his grip of the slender dwarf. He shoves a short sword into his hand, the edges blunted. Kili’s fingers reluctantly grip the hilt as he glances up at Fili. The wary look in his eyes, like he’s waiting for a horrible trick to be played on him, makes that dark rage bubble up in Fili again and he tries to squash it down.

          “Here, hold it like this,” he corrects, his fingers moving Kili’s in minute ways until the sword sits in Kili’s hand like an extension of his arm. “Now take a step forward. Good.”

          Fili eases Kili into a simple sword form, the first he learned, more about learning how to move with the sword than any type of defense. Despite his original reluctance Kili seems to be a natural and his embarrassment is soon forgotten as his feet deftly repeat the steps. Fili moves with him, unable to stop touching him for minor corrections.

          When Kili apparently grows bored with the overly simple steps of the form and starts adding his own in Fili knows that, as a good teacher, he should correct him but he’s too caught up in the dance which they are creating. Fili’s eyes are on Kili, but it quickly becomes more than just watching. He _feels_ Kili, knows where Kili will step before he makes the move. Fili can practically taste the air, the subtle crackling of movement and breath wafting across his skin. Fili deliberately interrupts Kili’s steps, inserting some of his own and Kili flows easily into the motions which Fili creates.

          When Fili strikes, empty-handed, at Kili the motion is not fueled by anger or spite. It is a progression of the dance, an increasing in tempo. Kili responds fluidly, the flat of the sword striking Fili’s wrist. Kili whirls away, twirling as he aims at Fili’s head. Fili easily ducks and bats the sword away with the back of his hand.

          It is more than sparring, the motions they are performing. The strikes are savage, fierce and more than capable of inflicting damage if any of them connected. But Fili breathes out and twists around Kili and feels that his body is in no immediate danger, despite the feral glint in Kili’s eyes.

          Fili is reminded of mating rituals of animals as he presses into Kili, briefly overpowering the taller before Kili flows easily away from him. Sweat beads on his body as Kili slides forward, fluidity and grace ruling his sensual movements. Fili feels more animal than dwarf at the moment, feels the thrill of the hunt, of the chase as he has never felt before. He tilts his head in challenge and runs his tongue over his canines. Right now, with Kili’s wild eyes on him, he feels strong and powerful, all of his doubts changed to pure instinct and primal intuition.

          It is just another increase in intensity, a different chord added to their symphony when Fili shoves Kili’s sword away and pushes him to the ground. Kili’s hands are buried in his hair as Fili follows him. By the time Fili lands on top of him their mouths are already connected.

          The soft cautious touches of last night disappear, replaced by hard presses of flesh against flesh, teeth against lips, tongue against teeth. This time, when Fili moans into Kili’s mouth, Kili swallows the sound. Fili’s blood is up, singing with the delirious joy of battle and Kili combined and the duo is enough to make him dizzy. His kisses lack the finesse of Kili’s but raw desire fuels him until Kili gasps underneath him.

          In the literature which has been shoved at him since he was old enough to understand the runes, they speak of the desire of the Dwarves—fierce, possessive, vicious and yet utterly devoted. Fili finally understands what the old scholars were talking about as his name spills from Kili’s lips. Fili wants to bottle that sound, survive on nothing but that for the rest of his life. He drinks in every sound which Kili makes, greedily gulping even though he knows that he will never be sated.

          Kili shifts against him and Fili whines, a sound which he has never uttered before until this moment. The delicious press of Kili’s groin against his is repeated with a sinuous roll of Kili’s hips. Fili pants as he looks down at Kili, an utterly devilish grin spreading across Kili’s face as he deliberately presses up into Fili.

          “Let me take care of you,” Kili murmurs as he nips at Fili’s chin. The sound of Kili’s voice, low and seductive, mingling with the feeling of teeth at sensitive skin is enough to make Fili choke back a groan. “My little Princeling.”

          Fili freezes, a cold chill running down his spine as his mood instantly shatters. Kili senses the change in his body and a low noise of concern comes from him. Fili’s fear is two-fold—he heard the note of possession in Kili’s voice, the use of the word ‘my’. Though in his darkest heart of hearts, Fili would love nothing more than to belong to Kili, utterly and completely, he knows that he can never surrender himself, no matter how he might wish to. It makes it worse that in his half-uttered thoughts, Kili is always ‘his’.

          And then Kili’s croon of ‘Princeling’…Fili’s mind snaps back to Mim and the way he sneered when he said the word Prince and the cruel little glint in his eyes. All the sons and daughters of prominent families, trying to throw themselves at him, just for more notice in Thorin’s eyes, all of the polite whispers which turn to sneers as soon as they think he’s not listening—Fili clenches his fists as he tries to fight back the memories. Kili’s not like that, he tells himself, but really, what does he know about Kili?  

          “Fili?” Kili’s voice sounds small to his ears, but Fili’s ringing of dread all but drowns out Kili’s small quiver of loss.

          And then, just to compound his utter ruin, Fili hears the burble of voices coming down the path towards the training ring. A group of dwarves rounds the corner and stops dead in their tracks, no doubt astonished by the sight of their prince straddling a strange dwarf. Fili looks over them—his stomach lurches in tandem with his heart seizing as he recognizes Mim’s cold eyes glaring at him. Fili notes the way that Mim focuses on Kili but then another dwarf speaks and he turns his gaze to them.  

          “Our apologies Prince, we didn’t know you were otherwise…occupied.” The speaker inclines his head towards them both. His eyes linger perhaps a little too long on Kili’s form, sprawled underneath him and the slow stirrings of a jealous rage start to form within Fili. It’s dashed away when the dwarf speaks again: though his tone is delicate, Fili’s sharp ears all too easily pick up on the slight hint of derision beneath the polite words. “We’ll leave you two alone.” Though the nods and slight bows that Fili receives are respectful, the harsh whispers echoing through the practice ring after their departure are anything but. And Fili cannot help but notice Mim’s hateful eyes lingering on Kili before they turn their glare towards him. Then, just as soon as they appeared, the small group leaves and Fili’s attention is brought back to Kili humming in distress underneath him.

          Shrugging off the hands which reach for him, Fili rolls off of Kili and sits facing away from him. Kili murmurs his name as his hands sweep over his shoulders, lips pressing kisses to the back of his neck. Fili wants to lean into the soft, sweet comfort that those lips and body offer but the looks of the other dwarves haunt him. Already he can hear the whispers and guffaws passed in shops, in taverns— _“Without a shred of decency in his body, fornicating in the open for everyone to see! Moaning into his lover’s mouth like a whore! Disgrace to the line of Durin…oh, what will his uncle think…”_ Fili’s face burns at the thought of having to explain this to Thorin.

          Kili wraps his arms around Fili’s torso and pulls him backwards against his chest. For a moment Fili relaxes in his embrace, lets his eyes close as he listens to the soft thumping of Kili’s heart through his thin shirt. Then reality intrudes and he stumbles as he stands before he starts restlessly pacing.

          “What’s wrong?” Kili asks. At first Fili thinks that he’s being coy but the honest worry on Kili’s face convinces him otherwise.

          “Have you no shame?” Fili hisses. He immediately feels guilty at the hurt look which flashes across Kili’s face before it is replaced by stony anger.

          “You don’t know me as well as you’d like to think,” Kili says in a silky, even tone which speaks of a tempest brewing. “Otherwise you’d know that no, I really don’t.”

          “Well, at least one of us does,” Fili spits. “And if you knew me as well as _you’d_ like to think, then you’d know that certain…behavior is expected of me.”

          Kili stands and stalks towards Fili. Fili stands his ground as Kili shoves himself too close, their chests touching in a way which is anything but tender. “And let me guess, being caught straddling a gutter rat isn’t the behavior which is expected of you?”

          Fili actually flinches at the bitterness in Kili’s voice. “You’re not a gutter rat, don’t say that.”

          “Aren’t I?” Kili takes a step back and spreads his arms wide. “Look at us.”

          Fili follows the instructions. Kili is dressed simply to the point of looking well… _common._ His white shirt needs to be washed and his breeches are threadbare. His boots look like cow leather, made to last but not the most comfortable or richest fabric. His unruly dark hair is tied with a simple leather thong. Himself on the other hand…his boots are made of otter skin, soft and supple, waterproof and utterly delicious to slide his feet into. Embroidery is etched into the hems of his shirt and his pants are woven from the finest fabric. Silver hangs from his hair and Fili has never doubted that it was his right to have these.

          Kili remains silent but his eyes judge Fili as the blonde tries to gather his thoughts in a way which will make sense. “I can’t…I just…” he tries. Kili never says a word but Fili sees the anger, and worse, the pain and disappointment—disappointment in _him—_ clearly on his face.

          “I can’t just…play around!” Fili finally spits out, knowing the second that the words leave his mouth that they’re entirely wrong.

          Kili laughs and the sound is harsh and painful, as is the smile which twists his face. “Is that what you wanted?” Kili asks. The corners of his lips stretch even further but there is absolutely nothing lovely about the expression.

          “No, I didn’t mean that, it came out wrong, look, just come here…” Fili reaches out to pull Kili closer to him but Kili easily slides away from his grip.

          “Suppose I should thank you for letting me know what this was now, as opposed to later.” Fili can tell that Kili is trying to sound nonchalant and unaffected but the slight crack in his voice diminishes that. Hurt flashes plain in his eyes and Fili takes a step forward even as Kili starts to beat a retreat.

          “You’re a real bastard, you know that?” Kili hisses and now he doesn’t even try to hide the sharp sound of hurt in his voice. The noise slices through Fili, white-hot and paralyzing and he only watches as Kili whirls around on his heel and starts to swiftly walk away.

          By the time that Fili recovers his voice enough to say, “Kili, wait,” he’s already gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um...oops.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are ponderings, threats, and liberal abuse of beards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wheee another long space between updates
> 
> I might have lost a lot of you guys
> 
> But here have an extra long update

A sigh of relief escapes Dis’s lips as she closes the shop door for the final time that afternoon, the bolt sliding firmly home. She’s lucky to have the shop and the rooms above it and she’s worked hard through the years to keep it—but _Mahal_ there are days where she just doesn’t want to look another dwarf in the eye.

          She moves through the shelves in her closing ritual. She places items back where they belong, wipes the dust off of tables with the flat of her hand, quickly sweeps the dirt off of the floor. She’s done this so much throughout the years that she could probably perform these tasks in her sleep. Most days there’s a certain comfort in the mundane work but today she just wants to flee back up to her apartment atop the shop and bar the door against the world.

          Unfortunately, there’s still work to be done—she needs to purchase wool in order to start weaving for her newest batch of shirts and if she wants to make the little wooden beads that she was thinking of she’ll most definitely need to talk to Marya.

          Marya’s shop is just a few doors down from her own and the bell above the door jingles merrily as Dis enters. Marya’s just beginning to close up herself but Dis is a regular customer and Marya swiftly procures the items which she wants.

          “Anything else Naohne?” After all these years Dis answers as easily to her assumed name as she did to her given name.

          “No, I think that’ll be all,” she answers and easily hands over the coppers which Marya requests. At any other supplier she would haggle them down but Marya’s goods are top-quality and her price is fair.

          “How’s your boy?” The question is nothing more than polite conversation but Dis flinches and Marya’s sharp eyes instantly catch the movement. “Not getting himself into more fights is he? I heard about a disturbance about a week ago…”

          “He’s gone,” Dis interrupts, her voice tight and measured. Marya gapes in disbelief. “He left for Ered Luin.”

          “Naohne,” Marya exhales. “Why? Whatever will you do without him? My goodness…” The shopkeeper prattles on and Dis tries to ignore the pain in her chest.

          “It was for the best,” she finally answers and that’s all that she really wants to say on the matter. Her goodbyes are hurried and it’s with a sense of relief that she exits into the rapidly approaching dusk and finally escapes into the solitude of her own quarters.

          Dinner is nowhere near as turbulent an affair as it used to be when Kili was still with her. Her son ate with all the fury of a growing Dwarf—she could remember Frerin attacking his food with the same ferocious single-minded intent. Instead of the piles of food which were required to satisfy Kili, Dis is happy enough with a small bowl of stew and a piece of bread ripped off the loaf.

          She misses the boisterous conversation which used to accompany her evening meal. Kili had always taken pains to hide any unpleasantness from her and she’d drunk in the sight of his smile. Thorin had smiled the same when he was a child, though his grins had become few and far between as he’d grown older.

          The immediate surge of resentment rises when she thinks of her brother. It tastes bitter and hot, especially when she thinks of Kili with a dark bruise blossoming over his cheek. It feels worse when she remembers how Fili would laugh with delight whenever his uncle came to visit. She wonders how her eldest laughs now, if he even does.

          Dis wonders if she should feel guilty for sending Kili to Ered Luin but she doesn’t. It was the last straw for her, seeing the cuts and bruises littered over Kili’s face and knowing that her son was raging against something which he didn’t understand. Send him to Ered Luin had been her answer—let him find Thorin, let him find his brother, let him fill in the missing pieces of his life. Let him find peace.

          And perhaps once Thorin sees  his youngest nephew, he can explain exactly why Kili’s never heard of him.

 

 -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

Kili has never felt like more of a child as he throws himself on the bed and curls into a tiny ball. He wishes that he was back in his room with the knowledge that his mother was downstairs, the ever-present reassurance that there was someone in this world who loved him. But he is woefully alone now, with nothing but his bow, the few clothes he has and a room which he doesn’t even pay for to remind him of his status.

          Kili shoves the heels of his hands into his eyes and shudders as he thinks on Fili’s words. _Playing around._ Someone to spend time with, but certainly not the life-altering connection which Kili thought they had. How stupid was he, to think that he could have touched something as beautiful as what he’d dreamt of?

          Kili rolls onto his back and looks for patterns in the plaster on the ceiling. Stupid, stupid boy. Bofur had warned him that he aimed high, but Kili had thought that it hadn’t mattered. He’d been sure, he’d been _positive_ that Fili felt it as well; the same draw and pull, more powerful than a moth towards the flame, or the seas towards the moon. Instead, it was just the lure of pretty face which Fili had wanted, and in the end, he hadn’t even had the courage to follow that through.

          A pathetic whimper burbles out of his lips as he thought about earlier in the afternoon, the panic and shame which had settled on him, followed by the exhilaration at Fili’s hands guiding him and instructing him. For a moment as they moved, seemingly sharing the same mind, Kili had imagined the rest of his life being like that, moving in tandem with someone who could understand him, appreciate him, and who he could helplessly adore.

          “Stupid, stupid,” he hisses, digging his fingernails into the scalp. He wants the pain, he needs the pain to bring him back down to earth. For the past two days he has been floating in the sky, lost in a dream world which he was foolish enough to mistake for reality. Now he has come crashing down and he needs to anchor himself back to this dirty, cold world.

          When he finally brings himself to crawl up out of his hole of self-pity it is to stumble down the stairs with the intention of getting spectacularly drunk. A rude awakening awaits him as Bofur shoves two pints into his hand and orders him to take them to a table. Playing bar-maid was not even close to what he wanted to do this evening, but Bofur is letting him stay in one of his rooms without paying, so Kili does as requested.

          It’s yet another busy night and Kili is run ragged as he tries to keep the ale flowing, the food coming and the jokes rolling. The work does have one saving grace in that it keeps him busy enough to stop his brain from remembering just how lost and bereft Fili looked as he turned away from him. If Kili had been weaker, or perhaps stronger, he would have turned back and run towards him.

 Bifur, the slightly scary brother of Bofur, is running beside him, gesturing as to where certain plates are supposed to go and wetness soaks his thigh from split ale. Gutter rat he’d called himself earlier today. If Fili could see him now, he’d have to agree.

After delivering yet another round to a full table Kili ducks into the darkened stairwell just to catch his breath. He’s even worked up a bit of sweat running around all night, he notices as he passes the back of his hand across his forehead. He’s about to wade forward into the chaos once more when a dwarf appears in front of him, immediately stepping close into his personal space.

In the dark half-light of the stairs it’s difficult to make out features but Kili turns and eventually he recognizes the face which confronts him. He saw it glaring at him earlier today. The expression which the dwarf wore then is identical to the one which he wears now—bright hate glitters venomously in the depths of his mud-colored eyes. The memory of the afternoon constricts Kili’s heart for a moment and the dwarf takes full advantage of his inattention, using it to grab his shoulders and shove him against the wall.

Focus now fully on the dwarf in front of him, Kili pushes back. He shoves his assailant away from him and then draws himself up to his full height. Not for the first time he’s grateful that he actually has a few inches on most other dwarves, as it gives him a distinct advantage in situations such as these.

“Get your hands off of me,” Kili warns, as his feet automatically settle further apart, giving him a better sense of balance. He really doesn’t want to start a fight in Bofur’s place, but this dwarf put his hands on him first. It’s more than enough provocation. Besides, there’s something about this dwarf which strikes Kili as wrong. It’s akin to the smell which spoilt meat gives off, except there is no noticeable stench about him. It’s deeper somehow, sunk into the very marrow of his bones. It sets Kili’s teeth on edge and the hair on his arms rises in response to the feeling that he’s standing in front of a dwarf which might be more dangerous than he previously anticipated.

“Filthy little whore,” the unfamiliar dwarf spits in his face, and though the words sting with all the remembered pain there’s the hurt which is wholly new when Kili considers that maybe to Fili, that’s all he is. “You’re not worthy of him.”

Kili’s aggressive posture slumps, just a little, but it’s enough to make the other dwarf push in harder, until Kili’s back presses against the wall. What if this dwarf is right? What if he really is just a little whore, reaching for something he can’t ever have? Kili swallows hard as he searches for the appropriate scathing insult to shatter this other dwarf, but his mind still turns over the way Fili spat out _play around_ at him, like it was something dirty. Like maybe _he_ was something dirty.

“Stay away from him,” the other dwarf warns before he whirls away. Kili leans against the wall for a moment as he tilts his head against its comforting solidity. Unusual that words affect him so powerfully. He tries to shake them off but he can’t rid himself of the feelings they put into him, any more than he can erase the need to bathe. He feels as though the other dwarf’s touch has made him somehow unclean, like he’s stuck his hand in fresh manure. What he wants more than anything is to retreat to his room and wallow alone for a few hours. But he can hear Bofur calling for him, so Kili tries to steel himself for yet another round and he emerges once more into the light. Almost instantly he’s bombarded with requests but one in particular catches his ear.

          “Another mug if you don’t mind, pretty lass!” Kili’s shoulders stiffen as he slowly turns to face the loud, drunken voice. “Oh, not a lass but still pretty enough!” There’s a smile on the dwarf’s face but Kili recognizes the glint in his eyes and the tone of the voice all too well. “Come on wench, we’re thirsty here!” The smile fades from the dwarf’s face as Kili shoves his face close enough to smell the stench of stale beer on his beard.

          “Clever of you, making that joke, I’ve never heard that before,” he growls as his lip curls in disdain. “Just know that it’s only respect for Bofur which keeps me from telling everyone how this pretty lass beat you so that Mahal himself wouldn’t recognize you.”

          Kili abruptly pulls away from the table as he takes in a deep breath of fresh air untainted by drunkenness. He was about to walk away when another voice, this one less drunk but infinitely more spiteful, spoke.

          “Don’t mind the wench lads, he’s just upset because we saw the princeling getting ready to use him like a bitch.” Kili whips his head around so fast that it makes him dizzy as he looks at the speaker. His mind absently places him as one of the dwarves who interrupted him and Fili at the practice arena earlier in the afternoon. The speaker mockingly lifts a glass towards him. “How does it feel to have a prince’s cock in you, little lady?”

          A queer ringing shrills in Kili’s ears and the chaos of the tavern fades away until there is only this table in front of him, full of dwarves throwing back their heads and roaring with cruel laughter. Kili’s chest heaves with the effort of holding himself back. His whole body trembles as he takes a shaky step forward, hands already curled into fists.

          A solid hand on his shoulder grounds him and Kili feels his body align to that hand, as it has never done before to any other. Out of the corner of his eye he catches a glimpse of a mass of braids in thick golden hair. Then Fili strides past him, though Kili’s body still strains for him.

          A knife appears in Fili’s hand and he slams it into the table, the point catching the very ends of the dwarf’s beard. Surprise and fear shine in the drunk dwarf’s eyes. Kili understands. He would draw back from the naked revulsion and anger in Fili’s eyes as well. Power seems to radiate out from him and Kili thinks he might at last understand the meaning of Heir of Durin.

          “In olden days my great-grandfathers would have had your tongue for speaking thusly about a member of their line,” Fili growls, his voice a low thunderous rumble. Kili registers that the noise in the bar has ebbed, but his eyes are still stuck on Fili, whose hand now grasps the middle of the dwarf’s beard. In one swift move, so fast that Kili can barely follow, Fili’s knife shears through the hair, leaving Fili with half a beard clutched in his hand. He lets the hair flutter on the table and painstakingly wipes his hand on his breeches to remove any clinging remnants.

          “Thankfully for you, my punishments are less severe for first offenses. Remember this, the next time you choose to have a loose tongue about me and mine.”

          Kili hears the ‘mine’ at the end of Fili’s words and his mind begins to dance around the edges of what that word might mean. He is still staring stupidly at Fili as he walks towards him, knife already sheathed. Fili’s arm pulls him back to reality, almost puts him back inside his body and Kili’s feet shuffle along beside him as Fili walks them towards the stairs. Kili almost protests that Bofur still needs him, but then he sees the tavern-keeper giving them a nod and a smile as Fili starts to mount the stairs.

          Kili leans into the solidity of Fili’s frame as he lets his mind go blissfully blank. For the moment he is unconcerned with the dwarves downstairs, their crude japes or even the fact that a part of his past he thought was buried in his village came back to sting him. He breathes in the scent of leather and smoke which he associates with Fili and lets his eyes flutter shut.

         

 -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

          Fili’s whole body thrums with rage as he feels Kili’s slender frame collapse into him. His arm wraps around the young dwarf as he walks up the stairs with him, half guiding and half carrying. Kili is trembling against him and is suspiciously silent.

          Blood fills his mouth as Fili bites through his lip. The words still repeat in his mind: _a prince’s cock inside you, little lady_ , and they leave a sour taste in his mouth. He might feel shamed by the words later, but now all he feels is rage as he remembers the slightly unhinged, lost look on Kili’s face. Possessive protectiveness makes him cast an empty snarl at nothing, yet he feels better for the simple gesture.

When he reaches the top of the stairs Fili pauses. He has no idea which one of these is Kili’s room. Kili, recognizing his predicament, points to the second door on his left and Fili easily shoulders it open. Once the door closes behind them Kili turns in his embrace and buries his face into the crook of his shoulder. Kili’s body presses flush against him, hands clutched in his furs to hold Fili close.

          Kili shakes and Fili pulls him closer, one hand stroking the back of his head. “Hey, it’s all right,” he soothes. “You’re all right.”

          Strange hiccupping noises come from Kili as a nose presses against his neck. Kili nuzzles him, like a little puppy, and Fili finds that as ridiculous as the gesture is, it is also utterly endearing. Even now, Kili is still shivering in his arms, though whether it is from shame or anger Fili does not know. He brings Kili closer to him in a wordless apology for bringing the scorn of others upon him.

          Somehow Fili manages to maneuver them both towards the bed. He is still holding Kili as he flops backwards and Kili lands heavily on top of him. Kili’s body is stiff at first but as Fili strokes his hair and continues to croon reassurances at him he relaxes until he is lying boneless on top of Fili. The archer is warm on top of him and Fili absently thinks that this is the best blanket ever.

          “I didn’t think I was ever going to see you again,” Kili confesses after a moment’s quiet.

          On reflex, Fili’s arms tighten around him. After Kili had stormed out of the practice arena he’d done his fair share of brooding and pacing, each idea sounding more stupid than the last. He hadn’t wanted to show up at Bofur’s tavern like a love-sick maid, begging for forgiveness, but in the end that was what he had done, only to be greeted with some drunkard talking about him putting his…well…him _using_ Kili.

          But not ever seeing Kili again was about as much of an option for him as breathing was.

          “I’m sorry,” Fili awkwardly begins, “about this afternoon. I shouldn’t…I shouldn’t have said what I did.”

          “’S all right,” Kili mumbles as he pushes his face deeper into Fili’s neck. Fili wonders how he can breathe, with his entire face obscured in his furs, but if Kili’s happy there then he’s more than willing to leave him be.

          The minutes lengthen as the two lay entwined, their breathing falling into sync with the others. Kili’s hand searches for his and Fili relinquishes it readily as he twists their fingers together. Despite the weight lying on his chest, Fili feels lighter and unshackled. He wants to tell Kili this, perhaps hear what the other would have to say about this phenomenon, but Kili’s breathing has deepened and lengthened and Fili fights the urge to roll his eyes.

          “You really fall asleep anywhere, don’t you?” he asks. Without opening his eyes Kili snuggles closer to him, like he’s trying to burrow within him.

          “Mm,” Kili murmurs as his hand tightens around Fili’s. “You’re safe.” The words touch Fili as nothing else could and he wriggles his other arm free to wrap it around Kili’s back. Kili sighs happily and Fili can pinpoint the exact moment when he drifts off yet again.

          Despite his emotional contentment, having Kili’s full weight resting on him eventually becomes uncomfortable. Fili wiggles out from underneath him as quietly as he can, doing everything in his power to avoid waking Kili. Mahal, but he looks so utterly gorgeous when he sleeps, all the angular planes of his face somehow smoothed out and dark lashes resting on his cheek. Fili runs a finger over Kili’s cheek before he turns to leave.

          “Don’t go,” Kili suddenly murmurs as he reaches out and grabs Fili’s hand. “Stay?” Sleep-hazy eyes blink at him and any protests which Fili might have made are instantly lost.

          Self-consciousness is not a trait which he normally possesses, but he feels it now as he shrugs out of his heavy coat. It hits the ground with a thud but before Fili can think about the implications of that noise he’s already undoing the straps on his boots. He toes them off as he watches Kili crawl underneath the covers. He keeps his breeches and tunic on—he’s nowhere near ready to spend an entire night next to Kili in nothing but his smallclothes.

          Kili’s face is flushed as Fili slides into bed next to him. The silence between them is not quite awkward, yet not comfortable either, both of them teetering on the edge of something terrifying and tempting. The implications are clear to Fili, he knows what is supposed to happen when two dwarves share a bed, but he cannot seem to wrap his mind around that concept. Even if it is Kili the idea is simply too foreign to his brain, not to mention that he has the forbidding image of Thorin’s face looming before him.

          Thankfully, Kili seems to feel his exact emotions as he laughs shakily and lays a hand on Fili’s arm. “Thank you for…for everything,” Kili says, and though it’s not eloquent it touches Fili deeply in ways that long-winded speeches have been unable to. “I just…I didn’t want to be alone…”

          To stop Kili from rambling Fili leans forward and kisses him softly. No matter how much he thinks he’s gotten used to kissing him, the act still feels exciting and delicious every time. He wonders if it always will. Kili returns his kiss, nothing more than a chaste press of lips.

          Fili feels that he must explain before matters proceed. “I’m not,” he tries before he licks his lips and pauses. “I don’t feel…” All of his words sound stupid. “I’m not ready to lie with you,” he finally blurts out, then flushes a deep red at how utterly ridiculous that sounded.

          Kili rests his head on Fili’s shoulder and Fili inhales his scent. “Me either.” He looks up at Fili, his eyes wide. “I mean I want to…but…I’m not…”

          Fili wants, of course he does. From the first time he saw Kili he wanted. His body had initiated the want, blood pulsing through his body in a relentless beat Fili eventually termed _desire_. But now his heart wants Kili as well, wants to possess him utterly. Being next to Kili, sharing the same bed, the thought of their bodies pressed together in sleep—he _wants,_ but the habits of a lifetime are not so easily shed.

          Kili’s eyes are near frantic by the time Fili kisses him again. As he draws away he sees that the panicked expression has faded somewhat. “I understand, believe me,” Fili chuckles, exhaling as Kili relaxes against him. “I want to as well,” he whispers into Kili’s hair.

          He thought that maybe that fact was evident, but apparently not from the happy hum Kili makes before he snuggles into the bed. Fili curls next to him and there are a few awkward moments of trying to slot limbs and bodies together before they finally work out a compromise.

          Kili’s hair is in his face but Fili couldn’t care less. One of Kili’s legs is slung over his and Fili’s arm is thrown over Kili’s abdomen. “I’ve never done this before,” Fili whispers as he shuts his eyes, though he feels that his admission is already painfully obvious. “Fallen asleep next to someone else, I mean.”

          Fingers entwine with his as Kili takes his hand. “Me either,” he whispers and Fili finally allows himself to relax, lulled to sleep by the sound of Kili’s breathing, the press of Kili’s fingers against his, and the lingering, wild scent of his hair trapped in his mind.

 -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-        

 

          Kili awakens with a grimace. The sheets are stuck to his unusually sweaty body and the sensation is not at all pleasant. Normally he does not generate this much body heat when he is asleep. Fili on the other hand—

          Kili cranes his head to look at the dwarf sleeping behind him. Fili is a roaring fire when asleep, which would undoubtedly be helpful in the winter but it is early summer and the extra warmth is unneeded. Still…Kili smiles as he sinks back into the softness of the pillow. Fili’s arm tightens around his waist, pulling his body into the solid muscular chest behind him. Waking up scorched every morning would be worth it if it meant that he would have gotten to fall asleep next to Fili.

          “You normally wake up this early?” Fili murmurs into his hair, his warm breath against the back of his neck causing a pleasant shiver run down his spine.

          “Not unless I’m next to a furnace,” Kili tartly responds, though he softens the words by snuggling into Fili’s body.

          “Would have thought you’d appreciate not being cold,” Fili returns as his fingertips trace nonsensical patterns on Kili’s skin.

          “Well, you’ll be my first choice of companions on winter hunting trips,” Kili teases as he rolls over to face Fili. “I’ll wriggle into a bed roll with you and you can simply fall asleep and warm the entire clearing.”

          Fili rolls his eyes and Kili flirtatiously bats his eyes. “Cheeky brat,” Fili mumbles as his eyes drift closed again. “How are you so awake?”

          Kili cannot tear his eyes away from Fili, the golden hair escaping the carefully plaited braids, the large calloused hands and broad shoulders. Disbelief courses through him. Is this is his life which he is living? Never would he have thought that anyone of Fili’s caliber would even spare a second glance at him and yet here he is.

          Fili feels his gaze and cracks one eye open. “What are you looking at?” he asks.

          The kiss which Kili presses on his nose startles Fili into opening both eyes. “Just wondering how I ended up being so lucky,” Kili honestly answers. He expects a pithy retort for such a maudlin answer so it’s heart-wrenchingly endearing when Fili takes his hand and curls closer to him, pushing his head underneath Kili’s chin.

          Fili’s hair is unbearably soft as Kili rests his chin on the top of his head. He hooks one leg around Fili’s thighs and pulls their bodies closer together. Kili’s eyes fly open at the feeling of something unmistakable pressing against his thigh. From beneath him he hears the half-strangled gasp from Fili.

          “F…Fili?” Kili asks. It’s pointless to ask, he knows what a morning hard-on feels like, but he somehow wants confirmation. The idea that Fili would have one for him is simply ridiculous.

          “Sorry!” Fili actually squeaks and the sound is so un-masculine, so well…un-Fili, that it makes Kili chuckle. “Shut up!” Fili pushes weakly at his shoulder.

          His heart beats faster as he carefully moves his leg to press against Fili’s groin. Fili inhales sharply and the top of his head touches the pillow as his back arches. Emboldened, Kili takes a risk as he presses his lips against the stubbly skin of Fili’s throat. He can feel Fili swallow and the older dwarf’s hands clutch at his shoulders.

          “Fili,” Kili murmurs as he holds Fili’s head in his hands. Fili’s eyes flutter open to look at him, his pupils dilated. “Fili, do you trust me?”

          Fili hesitates before he nods. Kili presses his lips to the corner of Fili’s mouth as he shifts his weight. He tentatively lays one hand on Fili’s hip. Surprised, Fili jerks. “Can I?” Kili asks, the words suddenly thick in his throat. He is surprised and pleased to find how much he wants Fili to say yes.

          Fili doesn’t answer and Kili doesn’t move. Were it anyone else he would start teasing and if that influenced their decision then so be it. But as much as he wants to touch Fili, he wants Fili to want this as well. He wants Fili to want _him,_ and Kili almost moans when Fili finally whispers, “Please.”

          Kili feels like a fumbling child as he clumsily fiddles with the lacings on Fili’s breeches. His fingers have never felt more like sausages and it takes him entirely too long to open the front of his pants. Kili stares at the bulge pressing upwards in Fili’s smallclothes as his own groin stirs in appreciation.

          Goosebumps wash over Fili’s skin and Kili admires the sight before he dips his hand below the waistband of Fili’s smallclothes. Fili groans and rolls his hips as Kili’s searching fingers brush coarse curls. The single button holding Fili’s smallclothes together is swiftly undone and Kili swallows hard as he looks down at Fili’s swollen cock, heavy against his stomach.

          He would be lying if he said he did not feel the slightest bit victorious at the way Fili squirms. Even though his hips barely move it is still more unhinged than Kili ever thought that the coolly collected prince could be. Kili continues his teasing as he brushes his fingers over Fili’s skin, leaving no flesh untouched, except that which demands the most attention. The wanton groan which flows out of Fili’s mouth as Kili finally brushes his fingers over his cock sends heat flooding throughout his body.

          This is what he was searching for, all those years bedding anything which looked at him. This is what he always dreamed of feeling, this dizzying sense of ecstasy and pleasure, desire and delirious joy, all overtop a deeper emotion which Kili is still afraid to name. The difference between all of his previous partners and Fili is the difference between a painting and the actual landscape spread out before him. He had already known the first time that he kissed Fili that he never wanted to kiss anyone again but this just confirms his belief that he wants to spend the rest of his life utterly wrapped around Fili’s finger, content to bask in his halo of light.

          His hand works over Fili, fingers flickering over the head of his cock and tracing teasing light touches all the way down. Kili swiftly finds the rhythm which Fili prefers, though he changes every few strokes to prolong the experience. He wants to make everything perfect for Fili, wants this to be the most mind-blowing event in his life.

          He watches Fili’s face, the small lines around his eyes crinkling deeper as Fili pants in pleasure. Blonde hair sticks to his face with sweat and his whole body is flushed. Fili’s hand grasps the nape of his neck and pulls him into a needy kiss which leaves Kili’s head spinning.

          Love, he realizes, love is the motive behind everything he has done for Fili. Love, love, love stopped him dead in the street the first time he laid eyes on him. Love makes him able to anticipate Fili’s moves in sparring, lets Fili strike at him without ever worrying about being hurt. Love makes Fili leaving feel like his skin is being flayed from his body, love makes an insult to Fili hurt more than an insult to him. Love makes him delirious, love makes him feel so giddy that he wants to jump up and down and share with Fili this miraculous discovery.

          Fili’s cock twitches in his hand as teeth bite harshly at his lips. Kili sighs into Fili’s mouth as hands tangle in his hair. Fili kisses him furiously, all teeth and tongue clashing together in desire. Kili feels the slightest bit dizzy but he would never complain, not now, when he tastes Fili’s impending orgasm in his very breath.

          When he comes, the sound Fili makes into Kili’s mouth is intoxicating, a low, desperate moan which turns into a shuddering sigh as Kili works the last sensations out of his body. Fili’s chest heaves as he crashes his lips into Kili’s throughout, Kili blissfully swallowing every noise which Fili chooses to gift him with. He has never felt such a delicious pain as the bright pull of his scalp as Fili fists his hands in his hair.

          Afterwards, Fili lays almost senseless on the bed, with his arms wrapped tightly around Kili. Kili presses soft kisses to his temples and sighs endearments such as _so fucking gorgeous_ into his hair. Fili makes a sound that in anyone else would be called a whimper. Kili cannot stop kissing him, cannot stop his hands from caressing every inch of his body.

          “So gorgeous,” he whispers, as his hands move over a bicep which feels entirely too hard to be real. “So fucking beautiful.”

          “Bet you say that to all the girls,” Fili finally rasps as he cracks an eye at him. Kili flinches at the words which his guilty conscience makes into an insinuation.

          “No, just you,” he truthfully says as he brushes his lips against Fili’s salty forehead. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See guys I gave smut, so there.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everything falls apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so, true confessions time.
> 
> I've actually had this planned out for quite a while and this chapter was always going to come here. And then all of you guys were so great with your comments that I was like, "No, maybe I shouldn't...maybe I should write something different..."
> 
> And then I decided to put it here anyway. Not because I hate you guys, but because I honestly feel like it needs to happen, and happen here. 
> 
> I just wanted you guys to know that I thought about it. Like, a lot.

That morning heralds the beginning of the best week of Fili’s life. His thoughts are entirely consumed by Kili, even when he is supposed to be listening to merchants telling him their troubles or touring the outskirts of the walls. More often than not he makes it his mission to accidentally drop by Gloin’s forge, to the point where it becomes truly embarrassing to sprint past Oin on his way to the forge. That visit ends with Kili pressed against the wall as Fili tries his best at utterly devouring him.

          He can’t even remember a time when he thought that the act of kissing was indecent. Lately all he wants to do is permanently latch himself to Kili’s skin. Even during the evenings, when they are happily drinking a pint in Bofur’s tavern, Fili cannot keep his hand from tracing the hard line of Kili’s thigh underneath the table. A fire has been lit in him, one which Fili is loathe to extinguish—not that he thinks he could.

          Kili always looks pleased and a little surprised when Fili touches him or initiates a kiss. Perhaps the memory of their first kiss still haunts him, when Fili flung him away. Fili still remembers the emotions of that night, worry and confusion, terror that he’d lost himself completely in those intense brown eyes. He tries to make every touch an apology. Maybe it works. Kili certainly isn’t complaining.

          Afternoons are spent in the practice ring as Fili continues to teach Kili the basics of the short sword. Kili proves an adept student, the embarrassment at being taught by Fili disappearing the first time he manages to knock Fili backwards by a combination of surprise and sheer enthusiasm. As Fili’s back hits the ground Kili is already on top of him, greedily devouring his mouth. Fili kisses him back for a few moments before sitting up. The consequences of the last time they kissed in the practice ring are still fresh in his mind and he has no wish to repeat that incident.

          Still, there are plenty of kisses shared between them. Fili no longer feels ashamed of the noises Kili manages to rip out of him as he teasingly licks at his lower lip and nips a path down his throat. Instead, he focuses on the high whines which come out of Kili’s throat as Fili sucks a determined mark on the side of his neck.

          Sleeping alone no longer seems to be an option for Fili. Fortunately, it seems Kili feels the same and every night they fall asleep in a jumble of limbs wrapped around each other. Fili pushes his nose into the soft skin on the nape of Kili’s neck and knows that he’s acting like an infatuated child but he can’t bring himself to care, not when Kili favors him with a smile which could light up the whole of Ered Luin.

          He would be utterly insensible if he didn’t hear the whispers which followed him. The rumors of how a certain dwarf lost half his beard have spread through the village like wildfire, but no one dares confront Fili about it. There are dark looks thrown his way, especially when he walks down the street with Kili at his side, the dark haired dwarf occasionally throwing a playful hip into Fili’s just to knock him off balance. Fili swings a lackadaisical hand at him and Kili laughs as he ducks and sprints down the street, Fili hot on his heels. This behavior is undignified, but Fili finds himself repeating something which Kili had asked him, when Fili had been brooding one night.

          “What good is being the Heir of Durin if you can’t do whatever you damn well please?” Kili had asked, kissing each of Fili’s fingertips in turn.

          So Fili for once, throws responsibility to the winds and lets himself be a child for a few glorious days. He smiles more and laughs more in those days than he thinks he has in his entire life. For those few, perfect days he is simply Fili, a dwarf who is enamored with Kili. It is so wonderful, so idyllic that Fili thinks that he shouldn’t be surprised when it all falls apart.

          The day begins quietly enough in Fili’s bed, with Kili pressed against his back in sleep. Fili is normally the first to wake, habits ingrained by Thorin unbreakable, even with Kili’s sleep-heavy arm slung over his waist. Fili slides out from under the arm and pads softly over to his looking glass. He splashes water in his face and blinks hard as the last drowsiness of sleep is swiftly eradicated.

          From the bed, Kili groans in disappointment as a searching hand finds the empty space where Fili had been moments previous. “Come back to bed, it’s too early.”

          Fili casts a glance over his shoulder at Kili pouting at him. There’s no rational way that expression should look as utterly enticing and adorable as he finds it. Helpless in the face of Kili’s pleading eyes Fili sits on the edge of the bed and leans over to kiss Kili’s forehead.

          Kili seizes one of Fili’s braids to keep him close. “Come back to bed,” Kili murmurs as he coyly looks up at Fili through heavy lids.

          “Can’t,” Fili says with regret. Crawling back underneath the blankets with Kili is sorely tempting. “I have to meet with the scouts and border patrols today. They’ve said something about disturbances towards the north.”

          Kili frowns. “You worry too much.” His posture speaks of acceptance, however, as he sits up and hooks his chin over Fili’s shoulder. Fili cranes his head backwards to brush the tips of their noses together. Though the position is uncomfortable Fili still feels the familiar thrill when his and Kili’s lips meet.

          “And since you don’t worry at all it makes us even,” Fili responds easily. Kili pushes him in mock annoyance and throws himself back in the bed. His shirt rides up to expose a sliver of pale flesh and Fili gulps back a sudden urge to leap upon him.

          “Still going to beat you into the dirt this afternoon,” Kili taunts as he finally sits up and slides his feet into his boots.

          Sometimes Fili is amazed that so much could have changed in such a short time. A jape such as that, when he had first met Kili would have made him bristle with anger. Now he just laughs and shoves Kili backwards. Swiftly, he covers Kili’s body with his own, pinning the slender dwarf to the bed with his broader frame. He dips his head down and captures Kili’s mouth in a searing kiss which leaves Kili gasping against him and Fili yearning for more.

          “Not likely,” Fili smirks against Kili’s mouth before he forces himself away. Kili makes a sound between a whine and a growl of protest as Fili takes a moment to check his braids in the looking glass.

          He’s not surprised when a warm body presses itself against his back, arms wrapping around his chest before he’s turned around. Fili doesn’t resist. Kili dips his head down to close the few inches difference in their height with a kiss that makes Fili grip his hips in both hands. Their groins collide together and Kili strangles a groan.

          Fili debates dragging Kili back to the bed. They haven’t touched each other that intimately since the morning in Kili’s bed and right about now Fili starts to wonder why, even though he knows the answer. Fili finds that he is too shy of his inexperience and Kili is perhaps taking his cue from him. Despite that, Kili’s hips fit perfectly in his hands and Fili wants to investigate whether every other part of them fits so well together when Kili fluidly slips out of his grip.

          “Scouts,” he breathlessly whispers as he presses a close-mouthed chaste kiss to Fili’s mouth. “Border patrols.”

          “Since when did you become the responsible one?” Fili pants as he reaches for Kili, who dances towards the door.

          “Get out of this room before that disappears,” Kili warns and despite the slow churning of desire in his blood Fili follows him down the stairs and outside the house.

          “Training this afternoon?” Fili asks as he presses his forehead to Kili’s.

          “Of course,” Kili answers, pressing a light kiss on Fili’s lips. The entire scene is so domestic and sweet that were it anyone else it would churn Fili’s stomach. But he is biased when it comes to Kili and he thinks that this is the zenith of bliss. Pity fills him for those who haven’t discovered this ability to connect with another person so fully.

          The rest of the morning passes in a fairly unremarkable fashion. Fili meets with the border scouts, slightly feral dwarves more used to living in the wilderness than in the deep halls of the mountains. Kili would take to that life fairly easily, he thinks, before he forces himself to listen to what they’re trying to tell him. Besides, he doesn’t want Kili to take on a job which takes him away for weeks at a time.

          The scouts warn him that orc packs are moving in the wild. Fili determines swiftly that they’re not massing, just restlessly moving. He orders the scouts to keep watch over them and to ride swiftly with an alert if any pack comes too closely towards Ered Luin. The scouts bow swiftly and exit, leaving Fili with an excess of free time and nothing to do.

          He scans over some ancient Khuzdul runes but he can’t slip into the monotonous state which he requires in order to properly translate. He hasn’t been able to concentrate for a few days—his entire mind and body are practically screaming with excitement. Fili wants to enjoy this feeling for as long as it lasts. Some unspoken pessimism which Fili refuses to acknowledge tells him that nothing this blissful can last forever.

          Everything comes crashing down when his restless feet take him, predictably enough, towards Gloin’s shop. He pushes open the door and nods towards Oin, sitting in his usual place at the desk. But today, when he takes his usual path towards the forge, the elderly dwarf’s hand stops him.

          “Come and sit for a moment,” Oin asks, in a tone that warns Fili this isn’t actually a request. Fili sits across the desk from Oin, apprehension blooming in his stomach. He doesn’t actually know the elder dwarf all that well but he does know that Thorin respects him. He knows that Oin holds much wisdom and dwarf-lore that most of their people have forgotten and that before today they have barely exchanged three words.

          “By rights, I’m not the one who should tell you this,” Oin begins, one elbow resting on the table as that hand holds his ear trumpet. Fili is slightly irritated that he’s going to have to hold a serious conversation with that ridiculous device. “Your uncle or Balin, one of your blood should do so, but with them gone I suppose that it falls to me.”

          Fili’s heart beats faster. He knows that no matter what Oin says it can’t be good. Not with those downcast regretful eyes looking at him. “What is this about?” he asks, working the words out through a suddenly dry mouth.

          “How long do you mean to keep this up?” There are thousands of things that Oin might mean by those words, but Fili instantly knows the real purpose.

          Nausea rises, hot and sour in his throat. “What?” he stammers out in nothing more than a whisper.

          “Fili…” Oin sighs and shakes his head. “I wish your uncle was here, I’m no good at this,” he mumbles, before he looks back at Fili. “You’re the last Heir of Durin. I don’t know how much it means to you—“

          “It means everything,” Fili spits, forgetting that Oin is his elder and deserves his respect. Instead of being infuriated by his outburst, Oin instead nods slowly.

          “If that’s true, then you must see why you need to stop…this.” Oin gestures to the back of the shop, where Kili works blithely on in the forge, unaware that the entire foundation of their time together is crumbling. “You are the last Heir of Durin,” Oin repeats. “The _last._ You understand what must be done.”

          Oin’s words hang in the air like a poisonous smoke. “The line must continue,” Fili whispers, his heart sinking to rest somewhere around his knees.

          “And it can’t as long as you pursue the boy.” Oin is ruthless, gutting Fili’s hopes in one sure strike.

          “I…I thought you liked him,” Fili protests, though Oin’s liking of Kili has no bearing at all on the current conversation. “He works in your shop for Mahal’s sake, why do you hold such disdain for him?”

          “Durin’s sake Fili, of course I like the boy. He’s a good lad and were you anyone else I would be uninterested. But you are the heir to my King and I would not see the line which was carried through your father’s fathers die for childhood games.”

          “It’s not…I can’t…” Fili’s words die on his tongue before they have a chance to make it out into the open. Oin’s eyes weigh down on him, as does Thorin’s gaze. Fili feels like the whole Lonely Mountain is on his shoulders, dragon and all.

          “End it now Fili. End it while there’s still a chance that both of you can recover. Find yourself a wife and carry on your line. It’s your duty to your people.”

          “What about what I want?”

          For the first time Oin looks sad. “Your uncle learned long ago that personal happiness is always, _always_ sacrificed for the good of the people. You must follow in his footsteps.” Oin stands up and starts to walk away before he pauses and lays a hand on Fili’s shoulder.

          “I am sorry,” he apologizes. “I would wish you happiness.”

          Fili says nothing. Bitterness clogs his whole body and he thinks vaguely that he will never be happy again, never feel the same bliss that he did this morning. Oin notes his silence and walks out of the shop.

          Fili pounds his fist on the table in frustration and unhappiness as he looks wildly around the room. As he does so, his eyes light on the form of Kili looking at him, eyes hurt and furious.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_- 

 

          Kili’s lungs don’t seem to be working properly. No matter how hard he tries to suck down air it doesn’t fill his body and leaves him light-headed and dizzy. He grabs the door frame between the forge and shop proper so hard that his knuckles turn white. He idly wonders whether he will vomit or pass out first.

          Fili speaks first, his voice little more than a defeated croak. “Kili…”

          “Don’t.” The word comes out harsher than Kili intends. Fili takes half a step towards him. “Don’t!” His shrill voice pierces the heavy silence. The pained expression on Fili’s face violently twists his own stomach into knots.

          “Kili, please…” Fili’s hands twitch towards him, like he wants to reach out but is too afraid. He wouldn’t have been afraid this morning. Kili stares at Fili’s hands and tries to breathe past the tears clogging his nose and throat.

          “Don’t.” It seems to be all Kili can say. There are too many words pounding in his chest, too many curses and screams clawing to be let free. He is afraid that if he opens his mouth then all that will come out is a pathetic little wail.

          “I can explain,” Fili starts and Kili finally finds his voice.

          “Not much to explain is there?” His voice is razor sharp and cruel. It makes Fili flinch backwards and the bitter, pained side of him is darkly pleased.

          “You don’t even know what’s at stake here,” Fili tries again. “The line of Durin—“

          Kili lets go of the door frame to impulsively slam his fist into it, hard as he can. “I’ve heard enough about the _fucking_ line of Durin!” His scream echoes through the shop, as does the crack of his knuckles meeting wood. The pain is almost as satisfying as the shocked look on Fili’s face. “I don’t give a _damn_ about Durin or his bloody line!”

          He clenches his fist and feels the pain boiling low in his stomach, chasing up his throat to his tongue. Blood trickles, hot and thick, between his fingers. Fili looks down at his hand and blanches.

          “Your hand,” he whispers and heedless of anything else he swiftly moves forward and takes the injured hand in both of his. Part of Kili relishes in the concern but that part is drowned out by the words of _Find yourself a wife and carry on your line._ In a fit of reckless anger Kili shoves Fili, who is preoccupied with examining his hand, hard in the center of his chest and sends him sprawling against a desk. When Fili meets his eyes again he looks shocked but for the first time there is a flicker of real anger.

          “Don’t!” Kili shouts and he wishes that he could sound more forceful and less like he is begging for this to all be a bad dream. Maybe he will wake up and it will be morning, with Fili pressed against him and he won’t have to remember Oin’s voice telling Fili that he needs to end it now…

          “You shouldn’t touch me anymore,” Kili tells Fili, struggling to keep his voice from shaking. “Time to end your childhood games, remember?”

          Part of him remembers the pain of a week previous, of storming out of the practice ring with his heart pounding in his ears, the same fear that he had lost Fili forever. Except this is completely different—Fili had made it perfectly clear that it was a misunderstanding coupled with poorly handled attempts at communication. But now…there’s no way he could have misunderstood that conversation, no possible way he could misinterpret the look in Fili’s eyes—he’s getting ready to say goodbye.

          Fili’s shoulders are stiff as he draws himself up to his full height. His chest rises and falls noticeably. “Don’t talk about what you don’t understand,” he warns, low and deadly, and maybe Kili should be worried but now he just has _line of Durin_ and _the line must continue_ echoing through his head.

          “I’m not stupid, I understand just fine.” Kili forces a laugh past his lips. “You need to get yourself a little wife and fill her belly as many times as you can. Wish you luck in that, though I’m sure you won’t need it, but you just call me if you have any trouble—“

          He would have continued until he ran out of crude remarks, which could have taken a while, but this time it is Fili’s large hand which lands square in his chest and knocks the wind out of him. Kili clutches the doorframe as he staggers backwards, gulping uselessly for a few seconds until his lungs re-inflate.

          “Shut up,” Fili snarls. If Kili had more coordination then he would dodge the hand which grabs the front of his shirt and hauls him upright, but as it is, Fili pulls him forward with almost insulting ease. “I swear to Mahal, if you don’t…”

          Kili laughs again, right in Fili’s face. He wonders if he looks like Fili, all rage and hurt and maybe a desperate part of him begging forgiveness, screaming that he doesn’t want this, he doesn’t want this at all, he just wants to curl against Fili and have his hands running through his hair, feel the cool silver of his moustache sweeping over the curve of his shoulder, he never wanted this, Fili shaking him like a puppy.

          “You don’t understand any of this!” Fili roars at him and Kili is tired of that phrase. He does understand, more than Fili thinks he does. _Childhood games._ Suspicion flares again and this time it has the weight of Oin’s words behind it. Maybe Fili actually felt something for him, maybe he didn’t, but either way, it wasn’t what Kili had thought. He’d actually thought…for a few moments in the mornings, he’d thought how lovely it would be to wake up next to Fili for the rest of his life, how wonderful it would be to kiss no lips but his ever again…His One…

          “I have to, don’t you see?” Fili asks, and there is more desperation and less anger in his eyes. He abruptly releases Kili who immediately seeks his refuge in the doorframe. “The line must continue.” The words sound different coming from him, almost like Fili is passing a doom on himself.

          “And it doesn’t matter what I want, because I’m the heir and I have to—“

          “You don’t fucking have to!” Kili shouts. For as long as he’s known him, which admittedly isn’t long, Fili has been so concerned with what he _has_ to do, what he _should_ do that it’s suffocating. “You’re a prince, you do what you want!”

          “It’s so easy for you, isn’t it?” Fili asks, and there’s a condescending tone in his voice, which makes Kili feel instantly stupid. “Just do whatever you want and forget the consequences? What happens when there’s not a King under the Mountain anymore?”

          “There’s not a king under the mountain now, there’s a fucking dragon!” How long has Fili’s head been full of this horseshit? “You and your family aren’t kings of anything, wake _up_ Fili!”

          Those words hurt Fili more than anything he’s said yet, Kili can tell by the half-gasp Fili takes. The tips of his ears are red and Kili can see his hands clenched at his sides.

          “And when there is a King under the Mountain?” Fili valiantly rallies, upper lip curling in a sneer which Kili has never before seen on his face. “You think that I can just put a crown on your head, place you next to me as my consort and everything will be fine?”

          That image shouldn’t hold such allure for him, but it does and Kili shakes his head hard to remove the images which arise unbidden, of him kissing Fili’s crowned brow, of laying him down and making slow, sweet love to him on a heap of gold…

          “I don’t get what I want,” Fili says, and there’s a note of finality, of defeat in his voice and that’s when Kili knows that he’s lost. Hateful words and hard shoves aside, when Fili looks up at him, all regret and loss and something deeper which Kili knows is mirrored in his eyes, Kili knows that it’s all done.

          “But you should,” he whispers, still unable to accept the truth which stares starkly at him through Fili’s tear blue eyes.

          “Kili,” Fili’s voice is little more than an exhale and it speaks of goodbyes, of apologies and Kili just remembers how smoothly their lips meet, how Fili snores when he’s close to waking. “I think…I think you might be my O—”

          “Shut up,” Kili snarls, throaty and vicious. Maybe Fili means it as a way of apology, something to make him feel better. This might be him trying to be nice. But it tastes like sugar coated poison, like a lie wrapped in fool’s gold and Kili doesn’t want pretty words to soothe this ache.

          “Kili, please.” Though what he actually hears is _Kili, goodbye._

          Kili pushes past him as he sprints out the door and down the street.

          Fili does not follow him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I'm kind of sorry about it.


	9. Chapter Nine: Find New Ways to Fall Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shattered, bruised, and broken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am spoiling you.
> 
> WITH MISERY.
> 
> I might have written this chapter quite fast so apologies for any horrifically glaring mistakes.
> 
> Also this chapter contains heavy references to dubious consent/non-consent so triggers, beware.

Dusk falls swiftly and finds Fili anxiously pacing the sitting room of the cottage. Restless energy fills him and he finds that he can’t even sit to eat his evening meal. Besides, the moment the food touched his lips the memory of Kili’s heartbroken face swam to the forefront of his mind and he felt as though he was going to be suddenly sick. Fili shoves the plate away from him and holds his head in his hands as harsh, empty sobs wrack his body.

          Aule, how did it all end this way? How… _why…?_ But he knows why—Oin’s words echo in his mind, as damning now as they were this first time. _The last heir of Durin._ How had he managed to forget that?

          But he knows the answer to that as well—Kili had managed to swallow every thought of duty, every reminder of his lineage which Thorin had pounded into his head—with his smiles and his laughter, with his kiss he had managed to lure him into a sense that he was just another Dwarf. Fili wonders if it’s disrespectful to Thorin to wish that the fantasy were true—that he was free to make his own choices, to love as he wished—

          With a growl Fili forces himself to look at the carved sigil above the fireplace—the sign of the line of Durin. Thorin’s voice had been low and serious when he had first explained to Fili its significance and how important it was to be of the line. Fili had felt his childish heart swell at his uncle’s words and known that he was part of something unbreakable, something which was infinitely bigger than himself.

          His heart picks at him and Fili absently rubs his chest as the lingering pain which had been present all afternoon suddenly intensified. He stares at the sigil and somehow it blends with Kili’s face as the archer throws back his head with a delighted peal of laughter. Fili ruthlessly bites his lip as his mind and heart war and finally the answer slots into place as he remembers the feel of Kili’s hair sliding between his fingers—line of Durin aside, he had been part of something bigger than himself. He’d felt it the first time he’d set eyes on Kili, felt the forces of the world suddenly align as their eyes had met. It hadn’t been something he’d been born into, it was something which was created for him and perhaps all the more precious for that.

          Though in the end it was all too breakable.

          Fili digs his knuckles into his temple as he struggles for breath. _Line of Durin. Find yourself a wife. The line must continue. End it now._ Thorin’s voice: “We come from an ancient line, started by Mahal the Maker. You must always remember this Fili.” Balin: “The line of Durin is the most ancient of all Dwarf families and has always held the most prestige. It is blessed by Mahal Himself and it has endured through Ages.” The pride on Thorin’s face as he’d told the stories of the Dwarves of their line.

          And yet…

          Kili on the practice field, sword in hand as the late afternoon light catches the gleam in his dark eyes. Kili in the early morning when the sun just rises, curled by his side. Kili, laying next to him in the bed: _“Just wondering how I ended up being so lucky.”_

          Fili doesn’t even bother locking the cottage door when he leaves.

 

 

          His eyes scan the crowd in the tavern and his heart sinks slightly as he catches no glimpse of Kili’s wild hair among them. From the corner of his eye he sees Bofur trying to catch his attention but Fili pretends like he doesn’t see him. Fond as he might be of the former miner, he has more important matters on his mind. He’s not quite sure how he’ll tell Kili of his decision, definitely not sure how he’ll break the news to his uncle but the thought of Kili’s grin buoys him up the stairs.

          The second door from the left. Without bothering to knock Fili pushes it open, trembling slightly in anticipation—

          For a moment he can’t comprehend the sight before him. When he does, he gasps, empty and lost and sags against the doorframe. He tries to draw in breath but his lungs remain determinedly empty.

          “I tried to catch you lad.” Bofur lays a comforting hand on Fili’s shoulder but the weight goes unnoticed. “I didn’t want you to find out like this…” Bofur continues speaking but the words fade into the dull roar which sounds in his ears. Fili continues to stare forward as a curious numbness seizes his body.

          The bed is neatly made, basin and towels placed on the table beside the bed. Everything else has vanished. Kili’s bow, his quiver, his cloak, spare clothes…there’s not a sign that the room was ever occupied.

          “When…?”

          “This afternoon.” Bofur’s normally laughing eyes are full of pity. “I’m so sorry lad.” Fili stares helplessly at him as his heart finally accepts what his brain already knew.

          Kili is gone.

 -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

          Kili does not return.

          By the fifth day Fili accepts that he’s lost him.

          That night, in order to dull the ache in his chest and quiet the harsh whispers in his mind, Fili decides to get spectacularly drunk. It’s a decision which he has never made before but he’s tried everything that he already knows how to do, practicing with his swords until his muscles scream in protest with the simple act of walking.

          Though he wants to go to Bofur’s, he decides against it. Bofur would try to stop him from gaining the oblivion which he craves. Fili doesn’t want to be sensible anymore; he wants to be nothing more than empty. Guilt is a burden which he is too weak to bear.

          The tavern he walks into has none of the bright cheer which Bofur’s seems to exude. A fire flickers dully in the corner, casting the corners of the room into shadows. Quiet conversation seems to rule here. It should seem peaceful but instead it makes the skin on Fili’s neck crawl, especially when he sees the glances thrown his way and the conversations increase in intensity.

          He slides onto a stool at the bar and quietly orders. A quiet flicker of recognition greets him as the bartender shoves his drink at him, but that’s all. Fili is silently grateful as he takes a sip of his drink. Nowhere near the quality of Bofur’s ale, but Fili drinks swiftly and pushes his mug back for a refill.

          After a few mugs he begins to feel as though he could float out of the bar with no problem at all. The conversations buzz around him but Fili can pick out no words. He drinks again and relishes the floating feeling which settles in his limbs. It does nothing to erase the empty dull ache in his chest however, and Fili drinks again, thinking that perhaps ale will fill that.

          Time passes, maybe hours, and finally Fili thinks that maybe it’s enough. His grand experiment has failed miserably. The pain is worse now with not even the prospect of his own equilibrium to comfort him. He slams down a few gold coins on the counter, not bothering to count as he totters unsteadily outside.

          He’s drunk late enough into the night that most of the lights in the houses are doused and the streets are deserted. He’s thankful of this as he stumbles more than once. That’s all he needs—for some meddling merchant to tell his uncle that not only was his nephew cavorting with a strange boy but he also got so drunk that he fell flat on his face.

          He thinks that he can make it back to his house, but soon the pressing needs of his bladder overpower everything else, even his innate modesty. A few furtive looks over his shoulders assure him that the street is utterly abandoned and he ducks into a narrow alleyway between two shops. Fingers which feel as large as tree trunks fumble at his lacings and he hisses in relief as he finally releases the pressure which had built to truly unbearable levels.

          He’s shaking off the last few drops and tucking himself back in when agony explodes across the back of his skull. Fili barks in pain and surprise as he ungracefully falls forward on his face, cheek scraping the harsh contours of the ground. He lays facedown, dazed and trying to recover any sense of balance, when he feels ungentle hands yank him up.

          “It’s dangerous to walk alone at night,” someone whispers into his ear and Fili freezes in terror. He knows that voice only too well. A cloud passes over the moon, revealing what he already knows he’ll see: Mim’s face, contorted in a mockery of a smile. There’s a gleam in his eyes which Fili has never seen before but he recognizes it instantly, with the same instincts which enable animals to survive: the bright, unhealthy shine of madness.

          Fili struggles but he’s too drunk and the hit he took does nothing to help his predicament. His wrists are easily captured and pinned above his head and his body is pushed against the wall. He realizes, as cold air washes over his groin, that he never had a chance to redo the lacings of his breeches. A high, keening plea escapes him as Mim’s rough hands fondle his bare skin.

          He wants to disappear; he wants the very earth to open up and swallow him whole. He wants to be dead, asleep; he wants to be anywhere but here. Gladly would he face down a whole hoard of orcs if it meant that he could keep any semblance of honor and dignity, if it meant that he wouldn’t be uselessly struggling as this insane dwarf runs his hands over him in the least gentle way imaginable.

          “Please no,” Fili pleads, too far gone to notice that his voice is small, broken and childlike. “Stop, please…” A solitary tear tracks down his face and he futilely tries to push Mim away.

          “So beautiful,” the dwarf whom Fili once thought of as a friend, croons in his ear in a voice which is completely detached from reality.

          A broken sob escapes from him as the hand continues its movements, despite the fact that his body remains completely unaffected. Mim seems to see this as a challenge and increases his efforts. The tears fall faster from Fili’s eyes as he casts his eyes towards the skies and then towards the street.

He must be hallucinating. His mind must have finally broken from the stress and strain. Otherwise, why would he see Kili’s form in the entrance, beautiful dark eyes focused on his face? Fili’s eyes lock into Kili’s and he thinks that this is kind at least, one last gift given to him.

          “Kili,” he whimpers and despite it all, his lips twitch upwards in a smile. “Kili…”

          Fili closes his eyes for a moment to hold the image of Kili within his mind. When he opens his eyes, Kili is gone. _Truly was my senses taking their leave…_ Fili has just enough time to grieve the loss when a low roar sounds in the alleyway and suddenly the body pinning Fili against the wall is torn away. Without Mim’s hands holding him captive Fili slumps against the wall. His legs tremble and he slides down the wall, finding that he can no longer stand upright.

          Wild, animalistic snarls erupt in the alleyway. Fili turns dazed eyes to the fight unfolding in front of him as he tries to process what is happening. He thinks that Mim is on the ground, with Kili viciously drawing back his foot and snapping loose into the other dwarf’s stomach.

          Fili watches, some dark, ancient aspect of his personality pleased at the savagery with which Kili attacks. He only speaks when Kili plants a foot in the middle of Mim’s back and roughly draws the dwarf’s head up, bending the mad dwarf into a curve. The knife appears in his hand as Kili brings the edge to Mim’s throat.

          “Kili, Kili no,” Fili croaks. Kili snaps his head to look at Fili, teeth bared in a feral snarl and for a moment Fili is actually afraid, afraid of this wildness which he sees blazing in Kili’s eyes. The moment fades as Kili looks at him and nods almost imperceptibly.

          Still, Kili is a dwarf, and dwarves love justice almost as much as they desire gold and precious jewels. Deft hands twist Mim’s belt off and swiftly wrap his hands within, creating a tangle which will take even the cleverest fingers time to unravel. Kili drags Mim behind him into the center of the main street and he wraps the ends of the belt around a column supporting a shop front. Mim’s own knife is used to pinion the leather ends to the column. Kili surveys his work before he sprints back to Fili’s side.        

          The soft touch on his cheek reassures Fili that Kili is here and that he is safe and Fili comes completely undone. Uncaring of how he looks, he throws his arms around Kili’s neck and presses his face into the dark hair, breathing the familiar scent in deeply. Kili’s hands move so easily that Fili doesn’t even register when his pants are relaced.

          “It’s all right, I’m here,” Kili soothes as he holds Fili’s shaking body close.

          “Kili…” Fili’s voice breaks embarrassingly on the last syllable but Kili has the kindness to not say anything about it.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

         

          Fili’s body feels small and broken next to his as Kili walks him home. He’d been worried at first that Fili wasn’t going to be able to walk, but after a few shaky steps they’d created a rhythm. Kili’s right arm is thrown around Fili’s shoulders and his left holds Fili’s belt to keep him steady. Fili still leans into him; face pressed against his shoulder and Kili tries to quell the rage which spikes within him at the blonde’s condition. How did they come to this?

          Five days. Five days of living in the wilderness on the edges of Ered Luin and every day waking up with the bleak knowledge that he was alone. Five days of choking on his own bitterness and despair, of time spent laying on the ground unable to move, because what was the point?  

          Finally the ache and tug in his heart had grown too powerful to be ignored and he’d crept back into Ered Luin underneath the cover of darkness. Scaling the walls was easy—he’d climbed trees which posed more difficulty than the supposedly secure walls of the city. He really needed to mention that to Fili—His chest spasmed at the realization that this was supposed to be his last visit. One last sight of Fili, one last view of the Dwarf who he’d foolishly given his heart to and then—he had no idea what was supposed to happen afterward.

          When he first saw the glimpse of gold in the alleyway he’d been petrified. What was he going to say, to do when Fili saw him? The plan had been to not be sighted, to creep in and out of the town as little more than a shadow. Having to interact with Fili—that was why he’d left in the first place. Kili knows his limitations. Having to talk to Fili as nothing more than acquaintances…he knew he wasn’t strong enough to shoulder that pain. Still, the sight of Fili had frozen him to the spot, anxiety and love nailing his feet to the dirt.

          When he saw that Fili was not alone in the dark alleyway betrayal had bubbled, thick and poisonous in his throat. Raw and aching agony lanced through him as he thought that perhaps Fili had already found someone else to replace him, someone _better.._. Then his eyes had met the sapphire orbs and despite the darkness Kili had seen the fear brightly glaring at him.

          The knife was in his hand and he was on top of the other dwarf before he was even aware that he’d moved. He threw the dwarf on the ground, intent only on causing pain, because this dwarf had dared to touch what was _his,_ dared to covet something which he had no right to and Kili would make sure that he _never_ hurt Fili again—

          Kili fumbles with the door when they reach Fili’s cottage before he finally growls in frustration and kicks it open. Fili makes a faint noise of protest but Kili is already guiding him up the stairs. He is gentler with the door to Fili’s room.

          Here in the confined space of the house the stench of strong ale is enough to make him wrinkle his nose. Fili sways slightly from where Kili has set him as he turns to shut the door behind them. Kili notices that his eyes are dull and having some trouble tracking his movements as he fumbles through Fili’s drawers, searching for where he keeps his nightclothes. He finally finds a long shirt and throws it at Fili.

          “Change,” Kili orders, his brusque voice covering up the hesitation he feels. The shirt simply hits Fili in the chest and flutters to the ground. Fili blinks stupidly at it.

          A muttered curse later and Kili is at Fili’s side, shoving aside trepidation and illicit arousal alike as he works at the lacings on Fili’s shirt. Fili obediently lifts his arms as Kili slides the garment off. The pants might prove to be a harder obstacle.      

          Kili first guides Fili to the bed. He only wants Fili to sit down but Fili falls back without any of the usual poise which Kili has come to expect. Mahal, but he is _drunk_. Kili works at his boots and pulls them off before he stands up and over Fili.

          Perhaps it’s inappropriate, given recent events, but he cannot help but drink in the sight of Fili, shirtless on the bed. The muscles in his chest are finely chiseled, visible even through the blonde hair which graces his chest. For a moment Kili wants nothing more than to run his fingers through the soft down but the thought of the other dwarf touching Fili banishes those thoughts and Kili thinks he might be sick instead.

          “Fili,” Kili says. Fili grunts at him and Kili takes that to mean that he has his attention. “I’m going to have to take your pants off now. All right?”

          Fili grunts again, but Kili wants more. The sight of tear tracks down Fili’s face makes him demand more. “Fili, look at me.” Obediently, Fili’s eyes open and he stares at him, though his eyes are slightly unfocused. “I’m going to take your pants off now, all right?”

          Fili jerks his head in what Kili recognizes as a nod and a knot of tension is released in his stomach. He leans forward, knee of the edge of the bed for balance as he easily undoes the lacings. He swallows hard as Fili lifts his hips, seemingly unaware of how erotic the gesture is.

          _Not yours anymore,_ a nasty voice whispers in his mind, reminding Kili of why he left in the first place. Kili closes his eyes in defeat, acknowledging the truth behind the words. This moment, his fingers brushing Fili’s chest, hands sliding down his thighs to remove pants—this is an oasis in the barren wasteland which his life will continue to be.

          The hand on his cheek startles him out of his dark thoughts. For a moment he is sure that Fili is blindly striking out but that idea is instantly erased at the tenderness of the thumb swiping over his cheekbone.

          “Kili.” He wants nothing more than to hear Fili’s voice whisper his name throughout all time. It sounds more beautiful in his voice than he ever thought it could. Despite his original intentions, Kili leans into the touch.

          Fili’s gentle hand suddenly turns demanding as he hauls Kili in for a sloppy drunken kiss. Kili wordlessly protests but the noise is lost somewhere in Fili’s mouth. Despite the small fireworks exploding in his belly Kili tries to pull away. He has to remind himself that no matter how much he wants to be selfish and just give into Fili, that the other dwarf is drunk. He can’t take advantage of him, no matter how much he wants…and Mahal, he _wants,_ especially when Fili growls and clumsily reverses their positions.

          “Fili,” he pants once Fili has released his lips. “Fili…” His voice disintegrates into a high whine as Fili bites into the juncture between shoulder and neck, blunt teeth digging into flesh. Pain-pleasure emanates from the mark and rolls through his body. Kili digs his fingers into Fili’s biceps, though whether to hold him in place or throw him off, he’s not sure.

          Fili’s hips rut suddenly into his groin and despite all of his noble intentions Kili rolls up into the sensation. Guilt sweeps through him immediately after and he tries to gain Fili’s attention. The blonde single-mindedly attacks his vulnerable neck, teeth and tongue working over the skin in such ferocity that Kili knows there will be a huge bruise in the morning. “Fili, no.” Kili wishes that he could sound more forceful, more assured but it takes all of his willpower not to helplessly thrust up into the hard body atop him.

          Fili looks down at him and Kili shivers, half from lust and half from uncertainty. Fili’s carefully banked inner fire is suddenly ablaze and it threatens to engulf Kili in its hungry maw. A helpless whimper escapes him as Fili deliberately presses down on him. The desire coiled deep in him begins to unravel as he sees Fili’s smirk.

          “Fili, stop,” Kili finally gasps. Tugging sharply on Fili’s hair gains him the other dwarf’s full attention, though Fili glares at him. “Stop,” Kili repeats, keeping his fingers wound tight in Fili’s mane.

          “No.” Fili’s voice leaves no hint of negotiation and his fingers start to tug roughly at Kili’s shirt. Kili’s heart is beating hard enough that he’s sure the whole village can hear it.

          “Fili, please!” Kili yelps and he yanks on Fili’s head perhaps harder than he intends. Fili actually growls at him and the sound reverberates through Kili’s body. “Please stop.”

          “You want it.” As if to prove his words Fili roughly palms Kili’s erection and Kili sobs as his hips, completely out of his control, roll up into his hand.

          “Not like this,” Kili gasps as Fili repeats the movement. It is tempting to just surrender and allow Fili to do whatever he wants. Fili’s drunk enough that in the morning he probably won’t remember any of it and at least that way Kili will have one perfect night to hold to his chest, to keep him warm during the long winter months of loneliness.

          The idea is so seductive that Kili teeters on the edge of giving in before he remembers the last time he was in this room. Fili’s smile had been so sweet and gentle, his hands firm but caring. Kili looks up into the dark, demanding eyes and feels his heart shatter all over again. This is not Fili, this dwarf who does not listen and is intent on only fulfilling his needs. This is the ale and trauma and in the morning Fili will be horrified and ashamed. It costs Kili every hope to shove hard and repeat “No,” firmly this time.

          The heavy hand which cuffs the side of his head is unexpected and Kili’s head snaps to the side with the force of the blow. Heat blooms from his ear and there’s a distinct ringing noise in his head. He blinks twice as he tries to regain any sense of bearing. Fili’s hands are on him again, except this time they are frantic, fluttering birds instead of steely manacles.

          “Kili, are you all right, I’m sorry, Mahal, I’m so sorry, are you all right?” Fili pulls him upright and Kili pushes aside the pain.

          “I’m fine, I’m fine, everything’s all right.” His face feels like it might crack as he forces a smile for Fili’s sake.

          “I’m so sorry,” Fili apologizes and unheeding of what it might be costing Kili, wraps himself greedily around Kili’s frame. “I’m so sorry.” The words become a mantra which Fili continuously repeats until Kili’s arms pull him into an awkward embrace.

          “You’re fine, everything’s all right,” Kili murmurs. Somewhere, he thinks he can see himself shattering. “Everything’s fine, you’re fine.” The words mean nothing but they seem to soothe Fili, who quiets against his chest.

          Kili holds Fili until he sleeps and he thinks he finally knows what it means to fall apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPOILED WITH MISERY.
> 
> Also, sorry for lack of Thorin...he'll be back. He's taking a break because all of his majesty gets tiresome after a while.


	10. Stand on Mountains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope springs eternal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So after rapid fire updates, I got stuck. 
> 
> So...here you go!
> 
> By the way, did I mention that you're all the best and I love you all dearly?

The sunlight lancing through the window feels like a knife digging through his eyeballs and into his skull. Fili sits up with a groan which only serves to fuel the throbbing in his head and the sudden nausea in his throat. Fighting the nausea turns out to be a losing battle and he barely grabs a basin in time before what seems to be half his stomach comes out of him. The water on his bedside table is warm but at least it washes out the taste of vomit in his mouth. He shakily wipes the back of his hand across his mouth before he closes his eyes and sinks back into his pillows.

          Memories of the night before do nothing to soothe his hurts and in fact, serve only to inflame them. They play in a series of unconnected vignettes, the amount of ale which he imbibed (Fili is truly surprised that he honestly only vomited out half his stomach instead of all of it) and then the feeling of Mim’s hands on him. Fili retches once again, his muscles quivering and seizing as his body attempts to expel the poisonous thoughts. And then Kili…Kili, _Kili…_

Fili ignores the pain and he sits upright, hands clenching the blankets. That hadn’t been a dream—Kili had been here, with him, in his room. He darts his eyes around wildly, like Kili might be hiding somewhere before they settle on a corner of his room. Hope flares weakly within him.

          Fili crawls towards the crumpled form sitting huddled in the corner. Kili’s knees are tucked into his chest and his head rests on his knees. His arms hug his legs closer together. The entire image makes Fili think that Kili looks now like how he felt last night—like he wants nothing more than to disappear.

          “Hey,” he whispers as he gingerly touches Kili’s shoulder. “Wake up.” He gives Kili a hesitant shake.

          The eyes which he would be more than happy to become lost within flicker open and focus on his face. Instant panic obscures Kili’s features and he scrabbles backwards. “Fuck,” Kili curses as he pushes himself into the corner. His eyes dart to either side of Fili, like he’s looking for an escape. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

          Fili wrinkles his brow in confusion. “What do you have to be sorry about?” His memories of Kili are somewhat hazy after entering his room, but surely he would remember if Kili had done anything horrible?

          “Look, I shouldn’t even be here, I just sat down and I must have fallen asleep…” Kili looks terrible, now that Fili looks at him closely. There are dark circles underneath his eyes and his clothes are stained with mud. Fili wonders if his eyes look as lost and hopeless as Kili’s.

          “It’s fine.” The reply comes immediately to his lips and it’s only after he’s said it that Fili realizes that he means it.

          Kili still cranes his head to look past him and that’s when Fili sees it. A huge dark purple bruise covers the lower right of Kili’s neck. When Fili strains his vision then he fancies that he sees the imprint of teeth. He tells himself that he doesn’t have a right to feel anger anymore—he let Kili go after all, but he is a dwarf and possessiveness is in his blood.

          “Who did this?” he asks, voice low and dangerous as he skates his fingers over the blurred edges. Kili swallows and ducks his head but the image of that mark will be burned into Fili’s mind for the rest of his life. No one has the right to mark _his_ Kili like that.

          Kili meets his eyes and Fili wonders at the pity and melancholy shining in their depths. “You did,” Kili whispers.

          Fili’s first instinct is to laugh and his second is to call Kili a liar. But he can see no hint of untruth in Kili’s eyes and he doesn’t quite remember what happened last night…Fili strains his memory then feels a lurch in his chest as he abruptly recalls sinking his teeth into the soft skin on Kili’s neck.

          “No,” Fili chokes, but the sensations are happily provided by his sadistic memory. He remembers feeling Kili’s shirt against his bare chest, the friction against his groin as he thrust down on Kili, Kili’s cry of pain as he bit him, marked him like an animal. “Mahal, please no.”

          “I’m sorry.” Kili looks desperate as he meets Fili’s eyes. Fili looks up just in time to see Kili darting towards the open window.

          “No!” He can’t process the idea of having to watch Kili’s back disappearing into the distance. If he lets Kili go now he’ll never see him again, of that he is certain. Kili is much too familiar with the wilds and if he does not want to be found then Fili has no chance. His heart skips when Kili stutters to a stop. “Don’t go Kili, please.”

          He forces his feet to start the long shuffle to Kili. Each step seems like an eternity but he eventually faces him. Kili uncomfortably shifts his weight from foot to foot while Fili tries to catch his eyes.

          “I didn’t intend to be here,” Kili finally says, unable to bear the silence any longer. “I meant to be gone by the morning…”

          “Why?” Kili smiles but there’s no warmth in the expression. Instead, he looks like he’s just lost his world.

          “Was there a reason for me to stay?” The question is meant to sound flat and emotionless, but Kili is unable to repress the small strand of hope woven throughout the words.

          Fili cannot bear seeing Kili this small, this utterly lost any longer. He knows what he’s going to do, has even processed some of the consequences for his actions and decided that he doesn’t care, not now when Kili is so close. His fingers gently encircle Kili’s wrist and then he flinches back, as if he were stung, as the memory of his hands pinning Kili to the bed rears its ugly head. His stomach drops as the continuation plays within his head, the feeling of his hand striking the side of Kili’s head echoing through their skins.

          “I tried…I tried to force you…” He can’t even bring himself to say the words.

          “It wasn’t your fault.” It is impossible to read any tone in that carefully blank voice. “You were drunk. It was the ale.”

          Fili feels like he might dry-heave again as the truth of his actions dawns upon him. “But I wanted to…I wouldn’t have if I didn’t want…and I struck you because you wouldn’t…” A puzzle piece clicks into place and Fili feels a spark of hope underneath all of his self-loathing. “You refused me because I was drunk?”

          Kili swallows hard. “I didn’t…it would have hurt too much if you didn’t remember it. I…” Kili trails off and kicks his toe against the floor. He shoves his hands in his pockets, rocks back and forth on his heels and sighs. Perhaps he is waiting for Fili to speak but Fili’s tongue is glued to the roof of his mouth.

          Kili finally sighs and scrubs hard at his eyes. “I didn’t want to wake up in the morning and know that you regretted everything and hated me.”

          “Don’t hate you,” Fili instantly says, the truth of the words sitting comfortably in him. “Never could hate you.”

          “Thanks.” Kili’s voice is tired and Fili wonders how long he stayed up with him, what kind of toll pushing his forceful drunken embraces away took. Kili’s eyes flit towards the door and back towards Fili’s face. The words barely make it out of his mouth, so weighed down with pain and regret, but Kili finally bites out, “I should go.”

          Before Fili knows what he is doing he’s moved to turn Kili back towards him. Kili inhales sharply but doesn’t resist him and looking into Kili’s haunted eyes, Fili finally knows what to say.

          “And I wouldn’t have regretted it either.” Is it just his imagination or does hope start to shine within the dull eyes once more? “I would have just been happy to wake up next to you.”

          Fili waits uncertainly as his words fill the spaces between them. He’s always been stilted when it comes to verbalizing his emotions, never was much need for that until Kili arrived. The silence stretches between them and Fili prays that he can still fix this, fix _them._

          Pain contorts Kili’s face as his eyes close and Fili’s heart skips a beat as Kili almost imperceptibly shakes his head. “I’m tired Fili,” Kili mutters. “I can’t…please don’t play with me, I can’t take it.”

          “I’m not,” Fili says, his chest constricting painfully at Kili’s denial. “I couldn’t… _please_ Kili, _please…”_

Kili smiles at him, weariness and defeat tainting the expression. “It’s fine now but what happens when someone disapproves? I…” Kili’s voice quavers, “I’m so tired of you pushing me away Fili, I really can’t…”

          “I won’t, I promise, Kili I’m sorry, please believe me, I tried to find you that first night to tell you that I was sorry and if I could take it all back then I would, please believe me…”

          Kili’s shoulders shake as he meets Fili’s eyes. He looks as though he’s not convinced by all of Fili’s words but he still takes a step forward into Fili’s space. The archer smiles at him, hopefulness and fear in his eyes and Fili wonders at the strength which it must take for Kili to bare himself and deliberately make himself vulnerable to any pain which he could inflict. He makes a promise there, to himself, that he will never give Kili cause to regret this decision.

          Fili takes Kili’s face in his hands and the slender dwarf is pliant as Fili presses their foreheads together. Air is suddenly a scarce commodity as the tips of their noses brush. Kili inhales shakily as Fili busily relearns the feeling of stubble in his palms and the feel of Kili’s skin.

          Perhaps he should say something, but this feels more precious than words, fingertips roaming over every inch of Kili’s face, thumbs tracing the lines of his eyebrows, the hairline where soft skin meets dark tresses. Black eyelashes flutter against Kili’s cheek as the archer closes his eyes. Fili drinks in the sight of his finger against the corner of Kili’s mouth, wondering at the shape of his nail against the pale red of Kili’s lips.

          Kili’s shoulders relax as Fili traces the lines of his lips with shaking fingertips. When Fili draws his fingers away, the tip of Kili’s tongue darts out to follow the path Fili’s fingers took, as if looking for a lingering taste.

          He works his way down Kili’s neck, feeling the pulse pounding in the soft hollow beneath Kili’s jaw. Eager fingers, desperate for sensation, drink in the bob of Kili’s throat as he swallows; greedily devour the feeling of the skin shifting as Kili exhales in short little breaths. Fili’s index finger finds the dip of Kili’s collarbone and he strokes the skin, feeling a cord of muscle as Kili tilts his head towards the side.

          Palms smooth over Kili’s neck and scratch against stubble as Fili’s hands move back up to cup Kili’s face. Kili finally looks at him, eyes dazed and so dark that they appear black. Carefully, delicately, Fili’s fingers sink into the wild, untamed tresses of Kili’s hair and he feels the scalp beneath his nails. Kili takes little more than the idea of a step forward, perhaps he doesn’t move at all, but Fili can feel him reaching all the same.

          They press chest to chest, Kili’s arms dangling at his sides while Fili pulls their faces together. Their lips do not touch each other but they brush cheeks, hair, eyelids and noses. Fili inhales Kili, takes him deep into his lungs and still more, deep into his heart.

          Words, at which he is useless, pound at his brain. _I wasn’t lying the other day, when I said that you were my One, I meant it, I can’t think of ever living without you and just you being here is enough to make me happy, Mahal, I love you so much…_

Instead Fili pushes his nose into the hard bone of Kili’s cheek, feels cartilage bend underneath the pressure. Kili tilts his head and their lips ghost over each other, bottom lips grazing before they pull away yet again. Fili opens himself and makes his decision. Somewhere, Oin shakes his head sadly and Thorin stonily glares, but before his eyes Kili breathes and then it is the simplest word to fall from Fili’s lips:

          _“Stay?”_

And it seems predetermined that Kili whispers back as his hands finally come to rest on Fili’s hips:

          _“Always.”_

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-         

 

          Fili’s hands lead him, shaking and trembling like a sickly child, to the bed, where the blonde lays him down like he is the most precious treasure in the world. At least that’s what it feels like to Kili. His head is spinning and though he hasn’t touched a drop of alcohol in days he feels drunk with the concentrated focus which Fili’s eyes deliver.

          The bed dips down with Fili’s weight as the blonde lays beside him, propped up on one elbow to lean over Kili’s frame. The urge to bury his fingers in that thick, glorious mane of curls and braids finally proves too much and Kili reaches for the golden locks. Fili takes his hand, kisses each of his fingertips in turn, and kisses his palm and the soft, delicate skin of his wrist.

          Fili’s fingers follow a line down Kili’s arm to grip his shoulder. Slowly, much too slowly, he brings their lips together. Kili starts to shake as Fili tentatively presses against him and he buries his face into Fili’s shoulder. If there is one fact that he is certain of, it’s that Fili will be his undoing, will leave him so broken and defeated that there won’t be enough pieces of him left to put back together. But even knowing that, Kili still kisses him back because he also knows that it will be worth it—all the pain in the world would be worth it just to see Fili smile at him.

          The acceptance of his ruin brings more surety to Kili’s movements and he soon finds himself licking into the cavern of Fili’s mouth, delving into that familiar heat. His arms wind around Fili’s shoulders and hold the blonde close to him. He has no eloquent words for Fili and he knows that there is no way that he will ever be able to tell the swordsman how deep his emotions run—but he has this, this mouth pressing against his, the body covering him with its worth. Maybe, just maybe it will be enough.

          Blunt fingernails dig into his shoulders and this time when Fili starts to hastily undo the lacings on Kili’s shirt Kili simply urges him on. Fili’s fingers swiftly become tangled within the strings and he growls in frustration, the sound shooting straight to Kili’s groin. It’s only when Fili looks as though he’s ready to simply rip the shirt off of him that Kili helps. He has just enough time to shrug his shoulders free before Fili pushes him backwards, arms still entangled in the shirt and pinned at his side.

          Kili moans, utterly needy as Fili’s hands trace down his neck, past his collarbone to his chest. His original plan dissolves as Fili’s broad hands map out his torso. A thumb curiously rubs against a nipple and Kili bites his lip at the jolt of sensation which shoots through him. Fili repeats the gesture and Kili impatiently bucks his hips.

          “Is this…is this all right?” Fili asks, and if his arms weren’t pinned by his sides then Kili could have punched him.

          He settles for a growled, “Get down here,” and Fili’s eagerness to comply is almost comical if it weren’t so arousing. Thorough homage is paid to his lips; Fili’s plundering tongue sweeping over his searching one. Fili traces the abstract lines of the mark on Kili’s neck with gestures that are apologetic and curious at the same moment. Kili cannot help but gasp when Fili’s teeth scrape over the sensitive abused skin.

          Fili’s mouth follows the line of his bobbing throat to sweep over a muscled shoulder and down to his sparsely furred chest. Having his arms immobile is a strange sort of torture for Kili—he knows if he struggled a little more he could easily free himself but he finds that he likes the illusion of giving up control to Fili, letting the older dwarf explore him without any interruptions.

          “Mine?” Fili’s voice is hesitant and wondering just before his tongue curiously laps a nipple.

          “Yours, yes…yours…” The words spill out of Kili as he squirms on Fili’s bed, tongue licking at suddenly dry lips.

          “Mine.” Fili’s voice is surer, gravely and possessive as he sucks another mark into Kili’s chest, right above his heart.

          “Mahal, yes, please, yours,” Kili keens, Fili’s voice driving him just as wild as his actions. Every prayer he ever wished for, every hope he ever dared dream, is answered in that voice, in the claim which is staked on him.

          Fili’s lips map out the contours of Kili’s body, tracing the outline of his ribs and chasing the tremors which shudder through his muscles. The simple touches are wildly arousing as is the way which Fili’s hands continuously move over his torso, creating a constant storm of sensation. A breathless laugh escapes Kili when Fili’s tongue dips into his navel. Fili’s eyes flick up towards him and on his face is a smile which could melt even the hardest heart. For Kili, already prepared to puddle at Fili’s feet it simply reduces him further to worshipful lust.

          Fili only pauses when his hands and lips finally take him to the waistband of Kili’s trousers. His fingers trace underneath the band but go no further. Fili draws himself up and for a horrible moment Kili thinks that Fili might have reconsidered, might have come to his senses. The soft kiss which Fili gives him reassures him of that fear but Fili’s eyes are troubled when they separate.

          “Are…are you sure that this is what you want?” he asks. No one has ever bothered to ask Kili that question before and it is so sweet that it softens his jaded heart even more, but Fili is being so damnably careful when he doesn’t need to be.

          A hard jerk of his hips up accomplishes the friction which he craves more than air as his clothed erection harshly connects with Fili’s thigh. Fili’s eyes noticeably darken as he looks down at Kili and the hesitation and worry are replaced by hot desire.

          Kili thinks that he’s made his point but he pushes himself up on his elbows, enough to grab Fili’s earlobe in his teeth. He worries the soft flesh between his teeth, drinking in the way that Fili shakes on top of him, before soothing the hurt with a swipe of his tongue. “What do you think?” His voice, which was supposed to be low and seductive turns into a growl which turns into a pleased whine when one of Fili’s brawny hands pushes him firmly on his back.

          The band of his pants tugs and catches on the bones of his hips before Fili thinks to loosen the lacings enough to slide them down. Kili wriggles to help him before he laughs in a frustrated amusement—he’s left his damn boots on.

          “Mahal damn it all,” Fili snarls, but there’s a hint of the same exasperated laugh in his voice. Kili nearly kicks Fili off the bed in his desire to be rid of his footwear but together they manage to remove everything except Kili’s smallclothes, and the shirt which still keeps his arms loosely bound at his side. Fili gestures towards it but Kili shakes his head slightly. A raised eyebrow is the only comment which Fili gives before he presses his face to the trail of hair leading downwards.

          Kili shakily exhales as Fili’s tongue licks across his lower stomach. His frustration builds as Fili continues to press kisses to his stomach and eventually he lifts his head to look down the length of his body. Seeing Fili bent over him is an erotic dream which he never thought he’d experience, but there is a tension to Fili’s shoulders which should not be present.

          “Fili?” Without the use of hands, Kili settles for reassuring Fili by wrapping his legs around the blonde’s frame. “What’s wrong?”

          The embarrassed, vulnerable look painted over Fili’s face gives Kili pause. “I…I’ve never done this before,” Fili admits as he uncertainly chews his lip. “I don’t…I don’t know how to do what you did.”

          Kili’s strong legs pull Fili forward until their noses brush. Kili eases them into a kiss, coaxing Fili to relax by the familiar movement of tongues brushing lips. Fili kisses him back, movements gaining more surety on solid ground.

          They separate, though still close enough to share breath. Kili presses his lips to Fili’s upper lip, tracing the lines of his moustache. Fili’s hips grind down in Kili’s and Kili’s fingers scrabble at the sheets. He can tell from Fili’s breathing that his leonine partner simply needs encouragement—the want is obvious from the hard arousal pressing against him.

          “Undress me,” Kili instructs as he lays himself down on the bed. Fili bites off a groan and slides down his body. This time Fili’s hands move surely, fingers hooking easily into the waistband and dragging the garment down Kili’s legs. The azure eyes stay locked on Kili’s heavy lidded orbs and Kili deliberately licks his lips before he speaks again.

          “Touch me.” It is a request disguised as a command and his heart flutters nervously—is he asking too much? Pushing too hard? Kili thinks, without a single ounce of melodrama, that he might just die if he’s rejected by Fili yet again.

          The first touch against his cock is little more than air moving to follow Fili’s hand from where he almost touches him. Kili grunts as he swirls his hips in small circles on the bed. Whether Fili means to or not, the long tease has Kili aching and needy in ways that he’s never been before.

          The touch of Fili’s calloused palm against his cock is enough to make Kili’s eyes snap open and for his teeth to mercilessly gnaw on his lower lip. Fili runs his hand over the hard flesh, a wondering look in his eyes. Kili wants nothing more than to tell him to get on with it and stop being such a tease, but the rational part of his brain knows that Fili needs this slow exploration of his body. Kili just wishes that he wasn’t so strung-out already, so desperate and wanting.

          A thumb runs over the sensitive head and Fili’s lips twitch upward as Kili chokes out several unintelligible words. “Good?” Fili asks and there’s a different tone to his voice, one which suggests to Kili that maybe he’s creating a monster, that maybe Fili is starting to know exactly what to do and the teasing is becoming deliberate instead of due to inexperience. Then Fili repeats the motion, firmer this time, and Kili out right whines.

          “Y-yes,” he hisses, rolling his hips into Fili’s hand. There’s no way that a simple hand should feel this good, should have his eyes rolling and hands clutching at anything solid. Fili wraps his hand loosely around him and begins to stroke. It takes everything in Kili not to thrust into that hand and let Fili take the lead.

          The first few strokes are dry but within moments pre-come lubricates Fili’s hand. The strokes become faster and Kili’s body tenses and relaxes as a pressure builds in his lower abdomen. When Fili returns to just swiping his thumb over Kili’s slit, Kili thinks that he might just implode.

          The hesitation is worth it however, because of all the actions he could have anticipated Fili to take, a hesitant lick around his head wasn’t even close to any of them. An embarrassing cross between a yelp and a gasp tears from his throat and Fili jerks back, eyes wide.

          “Sorry!”

          Kili knows that he must look a mess, hair tangled on the pillow, shirt rumpled from where it keeps his arms at his side, legs spread akimbo. “You will be if you don’t do it again,” he threatens, though how anyone could hope to take him seriously is beyond him. That devilish, cocky grin, which always sends a surge of heat straight to his groin flickers on Fili’s face before the blonde dips his head back down, tip of his tongue tracing down the thick vein on the underside.

          “Good?” Fili asks again and there’s no way he’s not doing this on purpose.

          “Yes, yes!” Kili gasps, not caring how utterly needy he sounds. “Please—“He groans lowly as Fili suckles the head, cheeks hollowing to create an utterly delicious suction, “please Fili, _please_ …” Maybe later he’ll feel embarrassed about begging, maybe Fili will even tease him, but for now it’s worth it as Fili’s tongue works around him.

          It’s sloppy and saliva dribbles out the corner of Fili’s mouth but it’s the most mind-blowing pleasure that Kili could have ever imagined. It is an ecstasy which reaches past the pure physical act and touches every emotion, worms into his heart and fires receptors for bliss which he didn’t know he possessed. Soon, the need to touch overwhelms everything and Kili struggles his right arm out of the confining prison and tangles his fingers within the thick blonde hair. Fili moans around his mouthful, the sound travelling straight through Kili.

          With all the stress and stimulation, he shouldn’t be surprised that he doesn’t last longer. He tugs upwards on Fili’s hair—as gorgeous at it would look to see his seed on Fili’s lips, he’s not sure that Fili’s quite ready for that step yet. “Cl—close,” Kili pants as he attempts to pull Fili forward.

          Fili digs his fingernails into the skin on his pelvis and actually growls at him. The feel and sound send Kili howling over the edge, hips rutting helplessly upwards as his world explodes. He’s aware that Fili’s name is falling from his lips and that the top of his head has hit the hard wood of the bed frame but these are all coming from far away. Kili feels as though he’s floating away, drifting out to a gentle sea on the sturdy boat which Fili has built for him.

          Slowly, Kili drifts back to awareness, safely cradled in Fili’s arms. The braids of his moustache tickle his face as Fili bends his head to kiss his forehead. The bliss of orgasm makes Kili’s limbs heavy and there’s a stupid smile splitting his face. When his eyes flick up to Fili’s face, the other dwarf is positively preening and Kili knows that he’s going to be utterly impossible. He’s rather looking forward to it.

          And after he has a rest he’ll show Fili that maybe he still has several techniques to learn. Fili will pick them up quickly. He’s a smart lad.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

          Normally Thorin welcomes Dwalin’s company on the road. His gruff friend is a good traveling companion, ready with a bawdy story or observation about the road ahead when the situation requires, and silent when it does not. But there is a brooding quality about his silence today and the set of his shoulders speaks of someone who’s made a difficult decision.

          Thorin waits patiently for Dwalin to speak and the tattooed dwarf finally clears his throat. “Suppose you’ve already looked at where we are.” Thorin nods. He thinks he can guess where this is going. Balin obviously must have talked to his brother.

          “Couldn’t help but see that we’re skirting awfully close to Dunheld.”

          “Out with it,” Thorin growls. He abhors coyness in all forms and coming from Dwalin it’s at least triply annoying.

          “It’s been sixty-five years since you last saw her…don’t you think that it’s time? There couldn’t possibly be any danger now, too much time has passed…”

          “And what if our passing is marked by unseen eyes?” Thorin has forbidden either Dwalin or Balin to visit Dis, terrified that any undue attention to an otherwise insignificant dwarf woman would bring the wrong sort of attention towards her. “I would not bring ruin upon her.”

          “Thorin, it’s your sister.” Thorin grits his teeth as Dwalin continues. Sometimes his friend reminds him of a dog worrying a bone to get at the marrow within. He wants nothing more than to kick him and send him yelping away. “She should be with her kin, with those who appreciate her status. She would be safe in Ered Luin, we could see to that—“

          “Enough.” Thorin does not raise his voice; there is no need. The whip crack tone is enough to send Dwalin into a stony silence. “I will not have this questioned. She,” even the sound of his sister’s name brings him pain, “is safe. I will not endanger her life once more.”

          “And what of the child?” Dwalin’s voice is determinedly undefeated and Thorin ruthlessly crushes any hope which he might have nurtured.

          “The child lives and that is well enough.”

          “You’ll need to find him one day.” The warning and threat is evident in Dwalin’s voice and normally Thorin would bristle at the tone. Now he wearily accepts it, since it tells him nothing which he did not already know.

          “One day, when our kingdom is secure and I can send a whole troop of warriors to escort them to Erebor, in the safety and honor which they deserve.”

          He does not meet Dwalin’s eyes when he speaks. To see the doubt, however well hidden, would have been too painful. Instead Thorin nudges his pony to walk faster, putting himself at the very head of the column.

          _“What have you decided to call this one?” Thorin asked as he bent low over the cradle. It was made of wood instead of the gold and precious stones which it rightly should have flaunted. Were the world right then the birth of this child would have been tended by midwives and handmaidens, each bringing his sister whatever she desired, instead of Nain’s hurried fetching and Fili’s white-faced thumb-sucking._

_“Kili.” His sister’s voice was tired but happy. She rested her head against Nain’s shoulder as the two parents stared down at their newest babe._

_He was a vision. He had the Durin hair which Thorin and his sister both shared, dark as unlit caverns, and eyes to match. From the way the hours old babe gripped his finger Thorin knew that he was going to be strong, just like his brother._

_Fili, worn out from the chaos of the day, slept curled on the large armchair where Nain usually sat. He’d stayed with Thorin through the birthing, eyes wide and frightened as his mother had yelled in pain. He’d taken to sucking his thumb, though Thorin thought he’d outgrown that habit years ago. He’d almost reprimanded the child for such immature behavior, but then Dis let out a truly fearful scream and Thorin resisted the urge to copy his nephew._

_His eyes flicked back and forth between the two brothers. Fili had inherited the more unusual tawny hair which both his father and his long-dead uncle Frerin shared. Light and dark. There was a metaphor there, something powerful, but Thorin didn’t feel like expending the effort to make sense of it quite yet. It had been a long birth and though he’d not done much for the actual event it was still tiring._

_“We’ll announce the birth tomorrow at a feast to celebrate,” Thorin decided. Exiled they might be, but they could still celebrate the newest member of the line of Durin in proper style._

_“We’ll bring back a proper boar to celebrate this little prince,” Nain chuckled as Kili burbled in his sleep._

_“No brother, you’ll have to miss this one,” Thorin laughed. “Your job tomorrow is to look after that babe and of course to fetch my sister anything she desires.”_

_Nain’s face showed no disappointment in being told to stay with his family. Quite the contrary—he had laughed and kissed his sister soundly while she swatted at his chest. “You know I live to serve my princess!”_

_Dis flushed but smiled. Thorin smirked at her, the smile which had sent her flying at him when they were younger, little fists pounding on his chest._

_“Your princess has had a long day and desires to rest,” Dis told her husband tartly, though the smile tugging at her lips had softened her tone._

_“As my princess commands, so I obey.” Nain had thrown his heavy arm around Thorin’s shoulders as he escorted him towards the door. Before he left Thorin had pressed him closely to his chest, clapping his back._

_“Congratulations father,” he’d whispered, his voice suddenly thick with love and pride. Nain had understood, bless him, and had simply clapped him on the arm._

_“And to you, Uncle Thorin.” Thorin smiled. Even here, tucked in the inglorious hills of spindly mountains so unlike his majestic Erebor, there was still happiness to be found._

_Thorin stepped out into the warm summer air and started the short walk to his own residence. Nain’s voice had called after him, “Make sure it’s a nice fat pig!” His brother in law still laughed even as the door closed._

_It was the last time Thorin had seen him alive._

The urge to see his sister is almost overpowering. He’s seen her every day for the past seventy years in Fili—the slight tilt to the head while pondering a problem, the self-assured walk, the lilt in Fili’s rare laugh. Still, he wants Dis. Other than Fili, she’s all that he has left of his scattered family. What kind of King is he, if he cannot even keep his own line safe?

          And Dwalin is right, of course he is, about the boy. Kili. He’d only been days old when Thorin had last seen him, wrapped tightly in blankets and screaming mightily as his sister turned and walked away from him. He’d be almost of age now. What kind of dwarf had he become? Perhaps it is arrogance which tells Thorin that even though the boy never should have learned of his true lineage he will still act like a scion of Durin.

          He should take the boy and his sister to Ered Luin, he knows this. But his sister’s life has already been torn apart by his proximity to him—

          _Blood, blood splashed across the walls and floors, blood pooling on the hearth where Thorin had embraced his sister not a full day before. And in the middle of it all, sat Dis, a bent battle-axe discarded beside her. In her arms she clasped Nain, hardly recognizable underneath the horrific wounds which have been inflicted upon him. His sister wailed as she rocked the body of her husband, wailed when Thorin put his arms around him, wailed as their tears mingled together over the broken corpse—_

He will not put his family in such danger again. Even having Fili with him was a risk, but it was a necessary risk. Besides, he takes a certain guilty pleasure in having Fili close. It reminds him of his sister, of Nain, of Frerin, so long passed on the battlefield. His nephew reminds him of himself as well, in a better time when he and his siblings raced around the rich halls of their kingdom, without a care except for who would win.

          One day, Thorin promises himself. One day, he will bring his sister back and have his family whole. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sometimes I spoil you with copious amounts of feels, smut and Durin family feels.


	11. Rest Your Bones with Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smarmy children, scared children, and a serious conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have a bit of a break from angst and have some fluff.

Fili awakens to the heady feeling of having another body wrapped around him. Kili’s leg hooks around both of his, his arm is thrown over his chest and despite Kili’s taller frame, his head ducks into the crook of Fili’s neck and shoulder. Fili turns his head just far enough to bury his nose in Kili’s hair, losing himself in the intoxicating scent of smoke, leather and something unmistakably Kili underneath it all, clean and fresh. It’s a smell and a feeling which he’s missed all too much. Fili maneuvers his body even closer to Kili’s, a foolish grin splitting his face when Kili tightens the grip he has on him. He could become very accustomed to this.

          Kili happily hums as he emerges from sleep, nosing Fili’s neck. “You’re here,” he sleepily murmurs, muscles flexing as he stretches as best he can without releasing Fili from his grasp.

          “Where else would I be?” Fili flicks his eyes down towards Kili.

          “Dunno,” Kili evasively mumbles. “For…for a second I thought that I’d dreamt the whole thing, yeah?” Kili’s body easily molds to fit the shape of his when Fili rolls to face him and pulls him flush against his chest. Kili’s lips move against the skin of his neck and the sensation sends goosebumps down Fili’s spine. “I was afraid that I’d be alone in the woods and it never happened…”

          “Shut up.” Fili ensures that his order will be obeyed by pressing a searing kiss to Kili’s lips. He probably has atrocious morning breath but Kili doesn’t seem to mind as he melts into him. “I’m here.” Guilt still gnaws at him and he knows it will continue to do so every time he sees the slightest hint of doubt flare in Kili’s eyes.

          Fili extends their kiss for as long as he can, until the need to breathe becomes urgent. The sensation of Kili’s fingers running over his bare shoulders, tracing the dips and sharp lines of his spine and shoulder-blades makes him shiver.

          “Tempting as it is to remain here, I think that we do eventually have to crawl out of bed,” Fili murmurs, giving an instant lie to his words as he nips at Kili’s throat. Kili cranes his head backwards in obvious invitation and Fili succumbs to his baser desires and worships the pale, stubble on Kili’s bobbing throat. The marks of the bruise he made are still starkly visible, though smaller marks now adorn Kili’s skin. Fili’s self-control obviously disappears underneath the ministrations of Kili’s hands.

          “Yes, but why?” Kili’s voice is truly sinful, all low and coy as he twines his fingers within Fili’s braids. “That just means moving—“

          “We’ve done quite a lot of movement,” Fili notes as he flicks his eyes towards the foot of the bed where the blankets lie in a crumpled, soiled mass.

          “And clothes, and aren’t you just so comfortable here?” Kili ignores the interruption and grins at him, pure sin incarnate. Kili, when he wants to be seductive, is almost irresistible, especially for Fili, who finds it a difficult task just to keep his hands off the archer in normal interactions. Fili almost loses his resolve when Kili stretches his legs, bringing more of their skin into contact.

          “We stayed in bed all yesterday,” Fili feels the need to point out. And a good day it was, full of moans and gasps, grasping hands and hungry lips. They had learned every inch of each other, lips and fingers mapping a course which changed with every breath. Each time Fili had thought that he’d finally sated his hunger Kili would glance at him from heavy-lidded eyes, lick his kiss-swollen lips, and ghost his fingers over some part of Fili which suddenly needed more attention. Fili had never been so slothful, or lustful, in his life. He’d relished every second, pulling Kili into yet another kiss which would leave both of them gasping and hard. They’d finally collapsed into sleep, bodies languid and limp with fulfilled desire. The last sight Fili had seen before he’d dropped asleep had been Kili’s hand, reaching out for him. Their fingers had touched just as he’d drifted off.

          Now Kili looks up at him through lowered lashes, lower lip stuck out in an expression which Fili is going to outlaw when he becomes King. It’s entirely too arousing to be allowed anywhere near him. “So that means that we’ll have good practice for today.” He punctuates each of his words by a kiss on a different part of Fili’s chest. He’d thought that he was completely sated, but Fili can feel the first stirrings of desire.

          His groan, frustrated and disappointed, is echoed by Kili as Fili swings his legs over the side of the bed. He slides smallclothes and breeches on, despite the fact that he knows that he desperately needs to wash. Strangely, the thought of the scent of Kili and sex clinging to him does not disgust him. Instead, he feels a strange need to parade himself in front of the whole of Ered Luin, with Kili by his side, display his claim to all of the dwarves there.

          Kili’s arms wrap around his waist and his hands play with the hair on his stomach. His chin hooks over Fili’s shoulder and Fili’s skin tingles at the warm breath washing over it. Kili’s touches are slow and steady, meant to reassure and not arouse.

          “It’s stupid but…” Kili trails off and Fili cranes his head to the side, pushing his nose into Kili’s cheek. Kili chuckles and the sound is sadder than Fili would wish. “It’s like a wizard’s spell…and if we leave this room then you’ll remember that you’re the prince and then everything will fall apart…”

          Fili whirls in Kili’s grasp, spinning so he can crush the archer to his chest. The thick, bitter bubble of guilt rises up in his throat yet again, threatens to choke him. Kili clings to him, clutches his shoulders like Fili’s the anchor keeping him steady. Perhaps he is. Fili certainly feels that way about Kili.

          “I made my choice,” Fili growls, pressing his lips to Kili’s neck. Kili whimpers, half in pain, as Fili roughly moves his lips against his bruises. “And I don’t care what anyone says about it.”

          “You say that now…” Kili never gets a chance to finish that sentence because Fili yanks him down, closing the difference in height with a kiss that’s more predatory than loving, all hard suction and nipping teeth.

          “I say it now and always.” Fili pulls away and cannot stop the smirk from covering his face. “I’m the Heir of Durin. They’ll have to do what I tell them to.”

          The shaky laugh is his reward, along with the return of the cocky, reckless glint in Kili’s eyes. “My Prince.”

          Somehow, through the tangle of kisses and touches, they manage to put their outfits on in some semblance of order. Fili settles his heavy fur overcoat on his shoulders, feeling the burden of responsibility once more. With a slide of metal through leather, Kili buckles his belt and sets his shoulders.

          Fili finds that he shares Kili’s reluctance to leave this room, though not perhaps for the right reasons. When he leaves the cottage all eyes will be on him and as much as he shows bravado here with Kili, he knows that there will be whispers and not all of them kind. He wonders what Oin will say. He wonders, with a huge gulp, what _Thorin_ will say.

          “Hey, Heir of Durin.” Fili turns to Kili’s voice and despite all of his worries, his shoulders relax and the tense expression around the corners of his eyes fades. He made his choice. And as Kili cocks his head towards the door, reminding Fili of the dream he had before he even knew Kili, the blonde knows that he will never regret choosing Kili.

          “I figure as long as you’re set on being responsible,” Kili wrinkles his nose in dislike at the word, “then I might as well go beg Gloin for a job again. If he’ll have me back.”

          “I wouldn’t worry too much about it,” Fili murmurs. He had gone to Gloin’s shop to look for Kili, knowing already that he wouldn’t find the archer there. Gloin had sent one, vicious look at him and mumbled something about meddlesome fools losing him good help before Fili had beaten a swift retreat out of the shop.

          Kili frowns as he drags a comb through his tangled hair and without thinking Fili moves to help him, sprinkling water on some of the worst snarls to loosen them. He brushes through Kili’s hair, trying not to pull on his scalp at the worst mats and taking quiet pleasure in the feel of sifting through Kili’s dark hair with his fingers.

          An idea begins to form in Fili’s mind, one which he’s secretly toyed with ever since he saw Kili working at the forge the first time. Kili looked so assured, so confident there, amongst the smoke and fires and it awoke something within Fili that he didn’t know was sleeping until that moment. He’s always learned, absorbed knowledge as though he were a thirsty sponge, but now he wants to _create,_ wants to see something beautiful come from his own hands.

          He looks down at his fingers moving through Kili’s hair and he wonders what beauty the two of them could accomplish together.

 

 -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

          Gloin’s reaction is better than Kili could ever have anticipated. He tries to look dignified at the very least, but the impression he gives is more of a misbehaving puppy slinking back into the house. Gloin, who is busy dealing with a youngster who looks disturbingly like him (Kili is irritated to see that the dwarfling already has a smattering of facial hair), just jerks his thumb at the forge room.

          “Thank Aule you’ve decided to turn up again, we’ve got a roomful of orders and Oin’s bloody useless.” The child darts around from Gloin’s legs to look up at Kili, eyes completely unimpressed.

          “You’ve got bite marks on your neck,” he notes and Kili flushes. He glares at the child, who, unimpressed, returns his look. Gloin reprimands the child, but the youngster’s attention is already seized by Fili, who enters the shop and stands beside Kili.

          “Morning Gimli,” Fili greets the brat.

          By way of greeting the little monster asks, “Did you give him those bite marks?” Kili should not be nearly as pleased as he is by watching the pink creep up Fili’s neck.

          “Shouldn’t you be home?” Fili asks, as his expression shifts to match Kili’s glare.

          “Yes he should,” Gloin growls as he tries to capture the child. Gimli simply darts behind Fili and Kili and sticks his tongue out at his father.

          “You let him work here and he’s only a few years older than I am.” Kili feels oddly insulted, but not nearly as much when Gimli finishes his argument. “Besides, I already have more of a beard than he does.”

          “Now look here you little brat!” Kili snaps, forgetting for a moment that this is his employer’s child which he is intent on throttling. Gloin reaches the creature first, shoving between himself and Fili to capture the child with a hand on the scruff of his neck.

          “More beard and less sense.” Gloin shakes the child, who does a poor job of looking abashed. “Would you insult the prince to his face?”

          “Didn’t insult the prince, insulted him.” A thumb jerked in Kili’s direction leaves no mistake about Gimli’s intent.

          “To insult Kili is to deliver insult to Fili, just as an insult to your mother or you would be an insult to me.”

           The warm glow which erupts in Kili only grows when he feels the soft brush of Fili’s fingers against his. At least here, for a moment there is no judgment or barely muffled mutters of how he is not worthy, how it is his fault that the line of Durin will ultimately crumble. Even Gimli’s less than heartfelt apology, forced out of him by Gloin, does nothing to diminish Kili’s sudden happiness.

          “Still doesn’t have a beard,” Gimli offers, a truly wicked grin painted across his face before he sprints out of the shop, followed by Kili’s inarticulate roar of aggravation.

          In Gloin’s eyes is a mixture of pride and frustration as he watches his son scamper away. He at least tries to look ashamed when he faces both of them.

          “Charming child,” Kili offers dryly and Gloin smiles into his beard.

          “Aye, he’s a firecracker that one,” and there is no hiding the pride in his voice. Kili feels happy for him, at the same as he wonders if his own father would ever have spoken so kindly of him. Probably not. “His mouth is going to pit him against an army one day.” Gloin looks positively thrilled at the prospect. His expression hardly dims when he looks at Kili and Fili’s less than enthralled faces.

          “I’m just going to start work now,” Kili finally says, when he realizes that he is no match for a doting father. He pauses before he enters the work area. “Thanks for taking me back.”

          “Get to work lad,” Gloin commands, but oddly enough, underneath his gruff tone there’s a hint of the warmth which was in his voice when he was speaking of Gimli. Kili heads into the forge, welcoming the rush of heat which greets him. At least here it won’t be noticeable when he flushes.

          The work orders are neatly tacked against the wall and Kili reads them all before he sorts them out, basing his order on difficulty and date. He’s so intent on his work that he doesn’t notice that Fili’s standing behind him until the prince lays a hand on his shoulder. Kili jumps before he realizes who it is.

          “Don’t mind me,” Fili says, though it’s him who has interrupted Kili’s work. “I just…” Fili grins in a way which Kili supposes is intended to look apologetic but only makes Fili look supremely smug. “You look good when you concentrate.” It is possibly the most idiotic compliment which Kili has ever received and it makes little sparks shoot in his belly.

          “Next you’ll be saying that I look good when I’m sneezing.” There is no bite in his voice and Fili just smiles wider. Kili’s innards dance when Fili smiles, as odd as that sounds. “Not that I don’t mind the company” though if Fili keeps on touching him it will be borderline dangerous as well as distracting, “but don’t you have, I don’t know, princely business to attend to?”

          “The merchants will survive without me checking on them and holding their hands for another day,” Fili dismisses Kili’s concerns with a wave of his hand.

          Kili makes a concentrated effort to ignore Fili and instead focus on the first work order of the day. Nothing particularly difficult, just a request for a fire poker set with a specific handle design, but it’s been waiting for several days. He actually manages to begin to work out some of the finer details in his head until he notices Fili shrugging out of his layers until he’s clad only in a loose white shirt.

          His mouth goes dry and Kili licks his lips. “Too hot for you?” He winces at the overtly obvious and completely unintended innuendo. Fili is polite enough to ignore it.

          “Doesn’t it strike you as slightly odd that the dwarves are a race of smiths and craftsmen and I don’t know the first thing about working in a forge?” In fact, Kili hasn’t thought about it at all, but obviously Fili has. Fili takes in the equipment and lets his eyes rove over Kili’s frame as Kili ties his hair at the nape of his neck.

          “What are you going to do about it?” Kili asks, because he can tell that Fili wants him to say something.

          Fili knots his hair in much the same style as Kili’s before he answers. When he does, it’s with much easier grace than Kili has ever managed when admitting ignorance.

          “You’re going to teach me.”

 

 -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

          When they reach the fork in the road Dwalin tries to keep himself from glaring at the back of Thorin’s head. It feels immensely satisfying to do so however, so Dwalin indulges himself and hopes that Thorin can feel the weight of his disapproval on his back. In everything else he is willing to follow his friend into certain death, but in this he cannot understand his King’s reluctance.

          Perhaps it is because he is a simple warrior, content to spend his days fighting and his nights drinking, but he prefers to have his world in one spot, friends and enemies included. It seems easier to fight and protect when both goals are visible. This is why he could not understand why Thorin wanted to send Dis and the babe away, to separate the family. Thorin had seemed to think that there would be another attack as long as the line of Durin stayed whole, but Dwalin had just said that they would have been ready the next time. Let the filthy orcs come, let them see what real Dwarfish steel could do. He’d cut his eyeteeth on the bones of orcs and if he had to, he’d teach Dis’s boys to do the same as well.

          “Stop.” His brother’s voice cuts through his rebellious thoughts and Dwalin turns the full weight of his formidable glare on Balin. His brother is unphased, one of the few people in Middle-Earth to remain blasé in the face of his wrath. Then again, it might be hard to be intimidated by a person whose soiled diapers you once changed.

          It would be so easy just to reach over and pluck Balin off of his pony and for a moment Dwalin is sorely tempted. Then Balin raises one of his overly bushy eyebrows in the look which he’s been confronted with all his life, the one which clearly says ‘Try it and I’ll break your arm’. Dwalin doesn’t doubt that his brother could do it.

          “He’s got enough on his mind without you sulking at him. It’s his decision in the end and we just have to go along with it.”

          Good. At least Balin doesn’t agree either. Dwalin doesn’t feel quite so alone now, even though his brother has done what he always does and swallow his own opinion to follow Thorin. Then again, it’s what Dwalin always does but at least he’s grumpier about it. Perhaps it’s easier for Balin because he was not the one who found the younglings that night.

          _Dwalin paused at the door to Nain’s cottage, the one where he had drunk copious amounts of mead in countless contests. It was nearly unrecognizable, the furniture shredded and smashed and blood, red and black, splashed everywhere. In the midst of the carnage sat Dis, covered in blood and in her lap…_

_“No,” Dwalin whispered, looking at the blonde corpse in her arms. He’d loved Dis like an older sister (she had teased him that the last thing she needed was another brother) and Nain had easily fit into his life, being quite the kindred soul. He’d had friends die before but warriors were supposed to fall on the battlefield, surrounded by hundreds of foes, not be murdered in their own sitting room in front of their wife and babes._

_Dwalin’s heart froze for a moment. The babes…His brother was already a step ahead of him and thundering down the stairs. “They’re gone!”_

_Without pausing to consider Dwalin had already sprinted out of the door, ax in hand. “Fili!” he roared into the night, his voice more a battle-cry than a call of comfort. He searched everywhere around the house that might appear as a suitable hiding place for a dwarf child. His search extended further and further, through the small village until he was screaming into the night on the edges of the forest._

_A traitorous voice whispered that his search was in vain, that the children were already dead at the hands of the orcs, their little bodies taken for prizes. Dwalin furiously shook his head as he tried to banish the sudden nausea. Fili was little more than a toddler and the newborn, only a day old…_

_“Fili!” he cried again as he crossed the threshold of the woods. He gripped the shaft of his ax tighter as the trees obscured what little moonlight there was. He’d never felt quite comfortable in the woods, still a product of the stone after all these years. Still, Fili was a child of exile and it might be to the forest that he had fled._

_“Fili!” Echoes of his own voice bounced back at him, mocking him with his inability to find a single child. Summoning the remainder of his breath and hope, Dwalin screamed, “Fili!” into the darkness._

_There was no answer._

_After a few moments Dwalin lowered his ax. That was it then. They’d lost Nain as well as his sons. How was he going to tell Thorin? How was he going to tell Dis?_

_That was when he heard it, barely audible, drifting down from the branches—the slightest little sob. Hope flared desperately in him and Dwalin scanned the trees for a hint of movement. “Fili?” he called again. For the first time in his life he wished that his voice sounded gentler. Then he wished that Balin were here. Balin would have been able to coax Fili out of his hiding spot in three seconds flat._

_“Fili, lad, it’s me, Dwalin,” he tried again. No voice answered him, but now he could hear a definite shaky inhale. “Fili, I’m here, you’re safe now. You did good lad, now come out.”_

_Still no answer. With difficulty, Dwalin restrained his curses as he buried his ax in the ground. He launched himself into the air with a grunt and his palms wrapped around the rough bark of a tree branch. Using nothing more than muscle he hefted his body up to crouch on its narrow diameter._

_Moonlight shone brighter in the tangled paths which the branches created and he stayed still for a moment while his pupils dilated. He scanned the darkness for any hint of that golden hair, the hair which he would always associate with Nain, no matter how much time passed. One heartbeat, then a second, and he heard the same quiet sob. It was to his right._

_Testing each branch, Dwalin carefully picked his way until he finally saw it: the slightest glimmer of daylight within the inky blackness of the night. He crept along the thick branch until he was in front of the child._

_“Fili lad, it’s me.”_

_Fili looked up at him, eyes wide and terrified. His eyes were swollen and red from crying and he huddled close to the trunk of the tree as though that would protect him. He clutched a small bundle to his chest and it was only when a small, perfectly formed hand escaped the cloth that Dwalin heard the small burble of a newborn._

_“It’s all right lad, you know me.” Why, oh why isn’t Balin here? His brother had the gift with women and children, and just about everyone—just a quiet word could take all of the fear and fight out of a person. Instead, just the sight of Dwalin’s burly form seemed to send the child into a deeper terror._

_Dwalin and Fili stared at each other, the child terrified and the adult worried about the child’s fear. Any swift move from either of them could send Fili toppling to the ground, brother along with him. Brother. Something in the word and the way which Fili clutched his burden to his chest gave Dwalin the faintest inkling of an idea._

_He sat down on the branch, legs dangling down as though he hadn’t a care in the world. At his newly relaxed posture Fili looked up slightly, though he did not come closer._

_“I’d heard that you were a big brother but I hadn’t a chance to see the babe.” The words were hard to find at first but the longer he talked, the easier they flowed. “What have your parents decided to name him?”_

_There was a long pause before Fili finally spoke, his voice tiny and unsure. “Kili.”_

_“Fili and Kili. You two will make a right good pair, mark my words. Maybe you’ll even give me and my brother a run for our luck when you’re of a proper age.”_

_“You think so?” Maybe it was his imagination but he thought that Fili might have straightened up and away from the tree trunk. “But you and Mr. Balin are warriors, Uncle Thorin says so…”_

_“Aye and you and little Kili will be one day as well.” It took all of his willpower not to focus his gaze on where he heard the tiny scuffle of little feet against tree bark. “All great warriors start out as dwarflings, even your uncle.” He it was not his imagination when he heard a tiny little sniffle come from beside him._

_“Father says that uncle was in…suff…rable when he was younger.” Fili’s words hurt in a way that not even seeing Nain’s body could._

_“We’re all a little like that when we’re young,” Dwalin answered, biting his lip to keep his voice calm, even though he wanted nothing more than to scream and rage at the unfeeling sky. “But you two won’t be will you?” He finally risked a glance to his side. Fili sat within arm’s reach of him, baby brother still firmly held against his chest._

_“No!” Fili said, the pride inherent to the line of Durin already plain in his voice. “We’ll be the best dwarves ever, you’ll see!”_

_“Aye I don’t doubt it.”_

_Roused from all the talking close by the dark-haired babe yawned and started to stir. Deep brown eyes blinked and took in the world before the mouth opened and a thin wail began. Dwalin cringed. Quite apart from alerting any lingering scouts that vulnerable life lingered in the forest, he always hated the fitful noise of children._

_“Quiet Kili, quiet, you’re fine,” Fili shushes the child. “I’m here, you’re fine.” A chubby baby hand, with nails that appear too small to be real seized a lock of golden hair and the child immediately quieted._

_Fili looked up at him and though there was no more fear in his eyes, there was a dark knowledge which Dwalin did not envy him. “Mother said that I had to run…she said that it was my job to keep both of us safe…”_

_Dwalin’s chest tightened as he finally reached out to the boy, who would become a man all too fast. Fili looked at him, the first tears falling as he collapsed against Dwalin’s side. Mahal, but he was useless at this, why wasn’t Balin here…But as Fili rested against him he had the thought that perhaps he’d done all right._

_“It’s all right lad, you did what you were supposed to do. You kept yourself and your brother safe.”_

_Fili nodded and even though his chin quavered slightly, Dwalin recognized the stubborn set to his face. “I’ll always keep us safe,” he promised Dwalin, before he looked down at the peacefully sleeping newborn. “Hear that Kili? I’ll always be there for you.”_

“You ever think about the one we left behind?” Dwalin is not given to long periods of introspective contemplation, but on some days he finds his train of thoughts brought back to the two brothers in the tree, twined together for only a short moment.

          Balin’s answer, when it comes, proves that his brother is indeed his ally in this, as well as everything else.

          “Almost every day.”

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

          Fili groans as he stumbles over to a stool. He manages to avoid collapsing in a heap on top of it and instead performs what he hopes is a dignified sort of squat before his bottom comes into rough contact with the wood. Kili snickers as he moves around the forge, placing all the tools back in their proper place. If he had any muscles left then Fili might punch him in the arm, but as matters stand currently he’s lucky to be upright.

          He hadn’t really known what he was asking for when he asked Kili to teach him the intricacies of smithing work. Balin had lectured on some of the basics and Fili had retained the idea that smithing was just a lot of heat and banging hammers around. Of course, there was rather a lot of that, but there was also the obsessive monitoring of the iron’s purity, adjusting the heat of the flames, and many tools to learn. Before yesterday, Fili had always fancied that he was in excellent shape—didn’t Kili love to run his hands over all of his muscles? However, it turned out that the muscles required for sparring were not those required for successful smithing. He’d gone to bed sore and aching and not even an hour long massage of his back from Kili’s nimble fingers had been able to remove all of the pain.

          Kili had given him a dubious look when he obediently followed him to the forge this morning. “You know you don’t have to. You’ve already proved any point you were trying to make…”

          “It’s not about proving a point,” Fili cut him off, though it was in a way. It was also about learning, about connecting with a part of himself which he hadn’t realized that he existed until he’d seen Kili bent low over an anvil. It felt good, learning something purely for his own satisfaction and not because Thorin insisted that the skill was necessary for the Heir to master. He loved learning how to wield his swords but he couldn’t deny that it was learnt at Thorin’s insistence though. This, the ability to read metal and to learn how to bend the white-hot materials into any shape he desired…this was all for him.

          It was easier to feel that optimistic surge of satisfaction in the morning when he had sauntered into the shop, somehow foolishly convinced that today would be easier. Instead his muscles had taken a sadistic delight in torturing him all day until just reaching for pinchers had become a chore of immense proportions.

          “My poor little prince,” Kili coos as his hands rub over Fili’s shoulders.

          “Shut up.” The response comes automatically, as out of his control as his body, which leans into Kili’s touch. Kili easily slips his hands underneath the cloth, his hands touching over-heated and sweaty skin. Fili almost wants to tell him not to do that because he feels that he is utterly disgusting, but if Kili’s not complaining then why should he?

          “So I suppose I’m to take it that we’re not sparring this afternoon?”

          Fili cranes his head as far to the side as he can without actually falling from his seat. “Yes, of course we are, just let me find my arms first.” Kili makes a childish face at him before scribbling a small note on an order form. He wants to spar with Kili. The brunette has learned in leaps and bounds in the past week and handful of days. Though he might never have Fili’s natural brilliance with a blade he’s certainly more than mediocre for a beginner.

          “Tavern it is then.” Though Kili’s voice is still chipper there’s a slight hint of disappointment. Fili thinks he understands. As much as he relishes the time spent with Kili in the crowded bustle of Bofur’s (and who would have ever thought he’d admit to _that?_ ) there is something intensely personal and private about their time spent in the practice ring.

          “Just because I’m unable to move doesn’t mean that I can’t teach,” Fili protests. “Besides, I have to make sure that you’re as useless as I am right now.”

          “Good thing you’re pretty.” Kili’s toe nudges his shin and Fili accepts the wordless acknowledgement of the jape. “Now see if you can take those ledgers and notes to Gloin.”

          “All right, when I said that I was useless, I wasn’t being that serious,” Fili grumbles, though it takes him longer than he would like to stand upright. Gathering as much dignity as he can manage on short notice, he snatches the pile of paper which Kili indicates and stalks out of the forge. Kili’s appreciative look does not go unnoticed.

          “Don’t know what you want with these,” Fili announces as he strides through the door. He swiftly glances around and stops in his tracks. Instead of Gloin, Oin sits behind the desk, hands folded like he’s been waiting all day for him. Perhaps he has.

          It’s probably just Fili’s imagination, but when their eyes meet the temperature in the room seems to drop about ten degrees. He suddenly realizes, as a trickle of sweat winds its leisurely way down his back, how scruffy and unkempt he looks, hair escaping the messy ponytail, shirt half undone and no doubt stained. The disappointment on Oin’s face is plain as the words on the orders he still clutches.

          “I’m sure that I don’t have to tell you that it’s hardly proper for you to be working here,” Oin finally says. That thrice damned trumpet is still held to his ear and for a moment Fili wonders what would happen if he went and knocked it away. Nothing good but the thought is certainly amusing.

          “I’m not,” Fili tries. Despite his statement being the truth—he’s not working for Gloin so much as he’s trying to absorb everything of what Kili tells him—it still sounds pathetic to his eyes. Oin’s look says that he thinks so as well, as his eyes take in all of Fili’s mussed clothing and messy skin.

          “I’d hoped that you’d taken my advice,” Oin sighs. “You mustn’t think that I bear the boy any ill will but he does seem to distract you from what needs be done. Working in a blacksmith’s shop—it’s unbefitting one of your status. What your uncle would say—“

          This time Fili hears the small creak of a door opening and he knows that Kili is about to walk in on a scenario which is identical to the one last week which started the huge tornado of emotions that they’re just recovering from. However, it’s not only Kili’s presence which compels him to speak, it’s his own sense of dignity and pride, which Oin obviously thinks he has lost. He could not be more wrong.

          “I don’t know what my uncle would say,” Fili interrupts. Oin looks like he’s going to chastise him but he falls strangely silent when he looks at Fili. “But I do know that after the fall of Erebor he took work where he could find it, even going so far as to work in shops owned by Men, not even by our own people. He did not consider the knowledge of blacksmithing to be below his dignity as the rightful King under the Mountain, so I cannot imagine that he would begrudge his heir to learn the same skills.”

          Oin’s face blanches for a moment before he steadies himself once more. The old, deaf dwarf’s eyes flick behind him, to where Fili can feel Kili lurking behind him. Fili raises his chin in challenge as he meets his elder’s eyes once more. Will he be bold enough to raise his objections to Kili’s face?  

          He is. Fili is hardly mollified by the apologetic look which Oin sends to Kili before he speaks to Fili. “And of your duty to the House of Durin? Have you decided to neglect your responsibility to your people?”

          Fili has wondered many times what he would say if asked this exact question. And while his answer sounds unbearably selfish, it is the only true response which he can give.

          “I think that our people yearn for happiness more than they wish for another heir of Durin. I do not think that they would begrudge joy and laughter when they find it together.”

          Oin hardly looks satisfied but he does not speak again. Without saying a word Fili walks carefully forward and lays the papers down on the corner of the desk with all the delicacy of a thief. Every one of his movements is carefully measured as he turns back to the forge. He narrows his focus to the brass doorknob, his every footstep echoing in his head. Somehow, this conversation with Oin makes his decision real for him, makes it permanent.

          The knob is warm to the touch as he turns it and walks inside. The instant the door closes Kili is on him, pressing his shoulders to the rough wood of the door. Fili responds with the same urgency, lips meeting in hard fervent kisses. No words are exchanged between them, just the mingling of breath and the slide of tongue against tongue.

          Kili slides his thigh between his legs and Fili breaks away to whisper throatily in his ear, “Yes, Kili…yes…” It was a pleasant discovery to find that his voice, no matter how awkward he felt at voicing his desires, could send shudders down Kili’s spine and pull the loveliest noises out of the younger dwarf. It works now, Kili instantly moving his hand down to palm him through his trousers, the friction of fabric against flesh stopping just short of painful.

          Fili ruts against Kili’s hand as the brunette struggles with both of their lacings. Finally, with several curses along the way, they are both free. Fili hisses in appreciation as their erections slide together and then bites his lip as Kili begins to work them both at the same time. He joins his hand to Kili’s and their fingers tangle as they slide over their cocks.

          This obsession with voices works both ways, Fili realizes as Kili nips at the shell of his ear. “Mahal, you’re so perfect,” Kili growls between strokes. “What you do to me…how…how you make me f-feel…” Kili pants as Fili snaps his hips forward in response to the hot breath tickling his ear and the delicious sound of Kili’s lilting voice turned harsh.

          “Do you feel that?” Kili gasps as he maneuvers Fili’s hand over the head of his cock. “It’s for you, it’s all for you, yes, Fili, _gods…_ ” Fili feels him spill over into his hand and his last few strokes are aided by Kili’s seed over his fingers.

          “Come for me, my prince,” Kili pants as he clings to Fili and tugs him mercilessly. With that, Fili is lost and he sinks his teeth into the sweat-soaked fabric of Kili’s shirt as he comes into his hand.

          The race to clean themselves begins all too soon, their eyes darting around the shop for a suitable implement. Kili uses an old rag which he found balled up in the corner of the shop (“That’s vile, you don’t even know where that thing’s been!” Fili had protested) and snickers as Fili tries to find a way to clean his hands without wiping them on his pants. He finally gives in and uses the rag, suppressing the shudders at whose hands might have been on this last (though it would be a strange sort of irony if Oin had been the last to use this sad rag).

          “And you said that you were useless,” Kili teases as he locks the door. A sudden impulse seizes Fili and he reaches out and slaps a palm across the bowman’s firm buttocks. Kili’s shoulders stiffen as he yelps in surprise and Fili cannot help the smug smirk which spreads slowly across his face as Kili darts a glance at him over his shoulder. The high cheekbones have a dashing of pink across them and Fili is delighted that he was the one to put it there.

          “What…what was that for?” The intention was most likely to sound offended but Kili fails miserably. Instead, he sounds slightly breathless and perhaps a little intrigued.

          With difficulty, Fili reins in his suddenly reawakened libido and affects a disinterested shrug. “Just wanted to show you that I’m good for a lot of things.”

          Kili’s smile is heartbreakingly genuine and it feels a little like the sunrise when the full brilliance falls on him. “Yes you are.” The words are punctuated by a chaste, sweet kiss against his lips and Fili thinks that sometimes the very world sings with him.

          Kili ends their kiss and, with the impetuous energy which Fili so closely associates with him, darts down the street, tossing an impish grin over his shoulder. “Now come on! You’ve promised to teach me thousands of fascinating forms!” Shaking his head, Fili follows him.

          Later that evening, as Kili’s feet easily fall into the patterns of a form designed to fend off three foes at once, Fili broods. For the moment he does not have to worry about the full weight of Kili’s concern falling upon him—the archer is determined to prove himself a capable swordsman and he attacks each new form with the tenacity of a starving wolf on a haunch of fresh meat. He will be occupied for at least a quarter of an hour until he can move flawlessly through the steps with the wooden practice sword a mere blur in his hand. Fili is free to ponder how exactly he can prove to Kili the depth of his feelings.

          They haven’t said the words yet, though they’re always there, lingering on the breaths they share and the long nights in each other’s arms. Fili feels them bubbling in him each time he meets Kili’s eyes, every time their lips press together. They surge in him with every orgasm, roar happily at him every time Kili laughs. It’s three simple words, but Fili has never said them to another dwarf and he’d like the first time he says “I love you” to someone to be perfect. He would plan the perfect moment but if his time with Kili has taught him anything it’s that his plans will routinely go awry. Besides, words don’t seem to be enough—words are said by everyone and maybe it’s just arrogance speaking, but Fili doesn’t think that this soul-deep yearning and devotion belongs to many besides himself and Kili.

          An idea begins to form in his mind as he watches Kili glance over his practice sword and then gaze at the swords hanging neatly on the wall. It lingers and begins to solidify rapidly, swiftly gaining traction in his mind, like the beginnings of an avalanche. By the time they leave the practice arena the maybes have faded and all that remains is to set the plan in motion.

          The next morning Fili makes his excuses to Kili, says that he has to tend to business about the village. Kili pouts but doesn’t protest overmuch and Fili slips out of the forge, only to catch Gloin and explain what he wants in vivid, meticulous detail. He knows that Gloin will instantly jump at the chance to help him create what he wants—he is a dwarf of Erebor after all, and craftsmanship is in his blood. Together they plot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mainly, this chapter was an excuse to write Baby!Gimli and Papa!Gloin.


	12. If Morning Never Comes to Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are ponies, swords, and hunting trips turned tragic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter today, but also the return of Thorin...'s POV.
> 
> Sorry, couldn't help but tease.
> 
> Also, you are all still awesome and wonderful. Give yourselves a pat on the back. Not even being sarcastic.
> 
> Also, in this chapter, Kili has some mad smithing skills. Because I said so, that's why.

Of all the ridiculous, mad things which he’s done in his life, this has to be the worst, Kili thinks as he stares at the muzzle of the beast in front of him. The pony huffs at him and turns its attention elsewhere, unimpressed with the specimen of dwarf in front of her. Fili, who holds the thing captive by its halter, chuckles and produces a carrot from his coat’s voluminous pockets. The shaggy creature lips at Fili’s hand and Kili watches suspiciously until he sees that all of Fili’s fingers are still intact.

          It’s not that he’s being stupid or irrationally fearful. It’s just that he doesn’t trust any mode of transportation which can think for itself. He’ll take his own feet, thank you very much. The pony snorts at him and if Kili didn’t know that it was completely ridiculous he would think that the animal is warning him away.

          “There’s nothing to worry about, Petunia is the gentlest pony in Ered Luin. Are you afraid?”

          Kili glares at Fili, correctly reading the gentle mockery in his voice. “No,” he snaps, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. “I just don’t see why it’s necessary is all.”

          Fili cocks his head to the side as he considers Kili. “Because it’s…it’s fun,” though the look on his face is suddenly questioning.

          “You think it’s fun to have that beast between your legs?” Kili asks as he slides carefully around the pony to run his fingers over Fili’s waist. “Wouldn’t you rather straddle something else?” He gives his most wicked grin to leave no doubt about what he means. Fili really does blush the most enchanting shade of pink when he’s embarrassed or aroused—in this case both.

          Fili owlishly blinks at him as he fiddles with the rough rope of the halter. His mouth opens several times and he finally swallows. “That’s…bold,” he finishes.

          Kili pouts. That was the smirk which had all of his partners practically half naked in seconds. Though as much as he hates to admit it, he’s secretly pleased that Fili is able to resist him, even if only partially—Fili’s throat throbs visibly with the force of his pulse.

          “Will I look dashing?” Kili murmurs once it becomes clear that Fili’s not going to jump him. He tentatively pats the pony and is pleased when his arm is returned to him exactly the same. “Will I look every inch your proper consort?”

          He doesn’t mean to say the last part, it just slips out, and he could kick himself for saying it. Fili’s eyes widen, like he can’t believe that Kili would put him on the spot like that, and to tell the truth, Kili can’t believe that he would either. It was a bratty, impetuous thing to say, and it’s made the worse because it reveals certain nagging doubts which Kili still holds.

          He doesn’t doubt the depth of Fili’s emotions—at least not much. It’s easy to read the affection in his eyes and the hunger in his touch. What’s harder is how Fili still ducks his eyes from the stares as they walk down the street and how even after his bold words to Oin he still has a problem standing straight in his elder’s presence. At night he feels Fili’s leg brushing up against his as the swordsman shifts in his sleep and he wonders how long this will last once the uncle which everyone whispers of returns.

          “I don’t want a consort,” Fili finally says as he tucks a strand of loose hair behind Kili’s ear. “I want you.”

          “Good,” Kili murmurs as he gently pulls on the braids framing Fili’s mouth. “Could you imagine me in a poncy little crown?”

“I don’t know, I think you’d look…delectable,” Fili responds as he circles the top of Kili’s head, exactly where a crown would sit. Kili flicks his eyes upward before he takes Fili’s hand in his.

          “Enough. I’ll ride the damn horse.” Fili grins in triumph. “And later, you are going to be very, _very_ nice to me.”

          That lovely blush covers Fili’s face again but his hand seeks out the curve of Kili’s hip. “And how could I be very nice?” His thumb rubs suggestively at the bone of his pelvis.

          Oh, but it’s so easy to wind the both of them up. “I think you could let me bathe first, maybe while the water’s still hot,” Kili answers, shrugging nonchalantly. Fili’s grip on his hip tightens.

          “Maybe we’ll just bathe together and save water that way.” The flush reaches all the way down Fili’s neck but his fingers are sure as they skate over his waist. Kili barely curbs the immediate impulse to thrust up into that hand and is glad he did when Fili smirks at him, all confidence and poise. Mahal, but that look makes Kili weak in the knees.

          “Now get on the stupid pony.”

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

          Fili intently watches Kili’s face when the order for the sword is placed in front of him. At first Kili looks at it with little more than a passing interest but when he starts to take in the details and scope of the work his eyes light up with desire. With difficulty, Fili hides the grin which threatens to tug at his lips. Kili’s dark eyes narrow as he tilts his head to the side and clicks his tongue.

          “Oddly specific,” he mutters as he finally spares Fili a glance. Fili raises a brow and hums in question. “Well, normally if someone commissions a sword they don’t have many specifications. Someone who puts this much thought into the design, usually they’ll just go ahead and make it themselves.”

          Fili shrugs even as he feels his mind start to race. Despite his declarations that he’s unintelligent sometimes Kili is too damn perceptive. “Well, maybe they’re just lazy,” he offers as he bumps Kili’s shoulder with his own.

          Kili smiles at him before he turns his attention back to the order form. Fili cannot help but feel the tug at his heart as Kili spreads a long sheaf of paper out and starts to sketch. The warm glow only grows stronger when he asks advice about a minor tweak to the design.

          For a week they work on nothing else. Gloin had offered the lie that the commissioner of the piece was willing to pay a hefty price to have the sword completed fast and accurately (which was not entirely a lie, Fili is indeed paying the smith to go along with this scheme) and Kili throws himself wholeheartedly into creating the sword.

          “Almost wish it was for me,” he comments off-handedly to Fili as he inspects the tempered steel. “Maybe one day I’ll be able to make my own.” He grins apologetically and goes back to work as Fili tries to school his features into an empathetic mask.

          The week winds to close and Kili works until the last moment, carefully choosing the perfect shade of leather for the sword’s grip and working the intricate runes into the pommel. Finally he looks at the completed sword and nods.

          “It’s done,” he finally decrees. He passes his hand lovingly over the blade and turns to Fili with a sad smile. “I’ll be sad to see her go.” Fili’s not sure when Kili started referring to the sword so personally but it just cements his certainty in the rightness of his actions.

          “Well…” Fili begins and then realizes that he has no idea of how to reveal his secret to Kili. Gloin rescues him by barging through the door and grinning broadly at Kili.

          “It’s done then?” he asks. Kili straightens and nods. Fili sees Kili’s tiny flinch as Gloin takes the sword and inspects it, almost like Kili wants to reach out and snatch it back.

          “Fine work,” Gloin pronounces once he tests the blade’s balance and edge. “Fine work indeed lad.” He flips the sword around so that the hilt faces towards Kili. “You should be proud of yourself.”

          “Thank you,” Kili murmurs, though he does not meet Gloin’s eyes. Instead he still looks with sad eyes on the sword.

          “Well go on then, take it,” Gloin booms after Kili hesitates. Kili looks up at him with his brows furrowed in question. “You didn’t spend all this effort on it just to give it to someone else, did you?”

          “What?” Kili asks and Fili can see the gears in his mind trying to turn faster. “I…I thought it was a commissioned piece…”

          “So it was,” Gloin nods and even his beard cannot hide the broadness of his smile. “It was commissioned by that one there.” Fili ducks his head, a guilty little grin crossing his face at Kili’s look of utter confusion.

          “You…you what?” Kili asks, still struggling with the concepts and Gloin swiftly tires of their farce.

          “Take it lad. It’s a well-made piece.” Kili’s trembling fingers wrap around the hilt of the sword and Gloin strides out of the shop, singing a drinking song under his breath.

          Once they’re alone, Kili turns to him, his dark brown eyes wide. “You…” he breathes, and Fili cannot help the small smile that crosses his face at the awed note in Kili’s voice. “ _Why?”_

          “Because I wanted to,” Fili answers, even though there’s much more to it than the simple act of wanting. “Because you deserve it.” He reaches out for Kili and Kili easily steps into his embrace, face burrowing into the crook of his neck and shoulder. His arms pull Kili even closer and the archer’s body shakes against his.

          “Thank you,” Kili whispers, his shaky voice almost lost in the press of his lips against Fili’s clothes. “Thank you, thank you, thank you…” Fili thinks that Kili might be sobbing but he’s not willing to break the moment to ask.

          They stay like that for a long while, Kili’s body curled into his and Fili’s arms wrapped tightly around him. Fili doesn’t want to let him go but eventually Kili pulls back, just far enough that their noses brush. Kili’s eyes are suspiciously bright but the smile on his face is beautifully honest and so open that it makes a white-hot flash of pure adoration burst through him. It’s painful and perfect and Fili thinks that if his life stayed this way forever then he would be the happiest Dwarf in Middle-Earth.

-_-_-_-_-_-_- 

 

          The journey back home always seems shorter, and for that, Thorin is grateful. The talks are done and though he didn’t receive everything he asked for, he’s almost satisfied with what he got. There had been a time when he had seen immortals bow before his family’s throne, but those days are done and now he bargains in town halls with fat mayors for trading rights which will keep his people from starvation. Bitterness burns in his throat, acidic as bile, but the sun still beams down on his company and there will be plenty of long winter nights to reflect on the countless indignities which he’s suffered since Smaug stole Erebor.  

          Besides, the rest of his company’s in fairly high spirits—in order to celebrate the conclusion of their agreement the Mayor staged a hunt for them—perhaps not realizing that hunting was more of a pastime of Men. Still, the gesture was kindly meant and to refuse it would have given insult, which is why Thorin found himself on a pony with a crossbow in his hands.

          He hadn’t been hunting in sixty-five years. He found his taste for it had all but vanished after his last hunt.

          _“You’re sure?” Dwalin’s voice was nothing more than a low hiss as their ponies walked sedately through the thick forest. Thorin kept half an ear on the conversation as he continuously scanned for signs of the promised boar. He had been part of too many hunts where the boar had come upon a group unawares and those hunts rarely ended without at least one or two serious injuries._

_“Aye, there’ve been sightings of it for a few days now,” Balin answered his brother. Thorin allowed his mind to drift forward to the feast which would be prepared for Kili. The child’s birth had been unannounced except to the two brothers who hunted with him—as per the custom in Erebor he would reveal the truth on the third morning after the birth and that night there would be a feast to celebrate. When they brought back the boar tonight, there would be a few astute souls who would guess as to the reason why but when Kili was hoisted up in front of them, it would still be sweet to hear the roars of happiness, made all the sweeter for the unexpected pleasure._

_A small grin overtook his face as he remembered Fili’s birthing feast. It had been the first real cause of celebration since the loss of Erebor and Moria, and he had finally set his grief aside for one night to rejoice that his family finally grew instead of dwindled. He’d woken up the morning after on the floor in his sister’s cottage without much memory as to how he’d gotten there, while Dis had smugly told him that she couldn’t take care of two babes at once._

_He was just imagining how succulent the pig would taste when mingled with the sweet honeyed mead when he heard a rustling in the underbrush. He had just called out a warning when something large and black barreled out of the woods and towards his pony. The animal shrieked in alarm as Thorin’s blood ran chill—in the split second before the creature was upon he had time enough to realize that it was not a boar which charged towards him._

_“Orcs!” Dwalin roared and as Thorin fought to keep his seat on his rearing pony he saw his friend charge into the midst of the pack, his hammer already in hand._

_“Draw them into the open!” Thorin yelled, his voice almost lost in the chaos of the swiftly escalating battle. “We’re too vulnerable here!”_

_He couldn’t tell whether anyone had heard him as he finally gave his pony her head and let her steer a course for the open fields. He could hear the orcs keeping pace with him, snarling and slavering at his heels and he longed for the feel of sturdy earth beneath his feet. Finally, the trees started to thin and he spied grass before him._

_He barely had time to get off of his mount and send her galloping towards the village before the foul beasts were on him. His sword was a comfortable weight in his hand, the metal singing through the air before it cut through paltry orcish armor. All rational thought fell away until there was nothing left other than the haze of battle, the bright red glow which fell across his vision as more foes came at him. If this scum of the earth thought that they could defeat him they had obviously chosen the wrong foe. He had seen an entire battlefield run red and black with blood, he had faced down the orc which made the fiercest warriors cringe. These were little more than rats he was exterminating._

_With a ferocious grunt Thorin faced his last orc, planting his sword through its abdomen and spearing it to the ground. The beast wailed and croaked but Thorin ignored its screams as his eyes scanned the tree-line. His body relaxed once he saw Balin and Dwalin striding through the forest, each spattered with blood but without any noticeable injuries._

_Once the safety of his companions was assured he turned his attention back to the orc, black blood slowly trickling out of its body. Thorin knelt beside its head and withdrew his hunting knife, holding it up so that orc could see the sunlight glint off of the thick blade._

_“How many more of you are there?” he demanded. The orc said nothing. “Tell me how many and I will make your passing swift,” he promised. Still the orc said nothing._

_“This is pointless,” Dwalin grunted at him. “Filth like this don’t have plans, they just attack like animals.”_

_At Dwalin’s words the orc started to laugh, a hideous sound which crept into Thorin’s bones and nestled there, creeping and itching through his body. Were he any less angry he would call that feeling fear._

_“You know nothing, stunted man,” the orc sneered. The crawling in Thorin’s bones grew worse and he barely restrained a shudder at the yellow teeth bared in a mockery of a smile._

_“Tell me!” Thorin roared, though he wasn’t sure what he wanted to know, or even if the knowledge was something he desired. The orc stubbornly refused to answer and in desperate fury, Thorin gripped the hilt of his sword and twisted it viciously in the orc’s belly._

_The high note of pain in the creature’s scream pleased Thorin in a way which shamed him but he was far more interested in the small movements of the orc’s cracked lips. “The heir of Durin,” he gasps out, his words slurred with pain and probably impending death. “The line of Durin must die, all of it,” he snarled, his bile-yellow eyes staring up at Thorin with hate._

_Thorin spat at the ground, his own disgust overwhelming him. “You failed scum,” he sneered as he brought his knife to the orc’s throat. “Your filthy leader failed to kill me, what makes you think you could?”_

_At the sound of the orc’s wild laughter Thorin’s rage dimmed. Despite the death tremors which shook its body the orc still laughed. “Arrogant bastard you think you’re the only one we wanted?”_

_Realization hit with the delicacy of a hammer striking an anvil and Thorin’s heart fumbled within his chest. Before he could realize his movements his knife cut deep into the orc’s throat, so deep that it almost severed the head from the body. He had already started to sprint back to the village with his sword in hand when he heard Balin and Dwalin beside him. The orc’s words echoed in his head, giving Thorin’s every step more purpose._

“You think you’re the only one we wanted?”

          _Dis._

          _Fili._

_Kili._

_Thorin ran back to his family, though in his heart he already knew he was too late._

Dwalin’s boisterous laughter shakes Thorin back to the present and he swiftly glances at his friend, nodding his head in acknowledgment. Thankfully Dwalin doesn’t concentrate overlong on him or he would see the slight tremor which runs through Thorin’s body. That afternoon still haunts him, comes to him in his dreams the same way that he can wake up and still smell the stench of dragon and smoke burning his nostrils, the same way that he can still remember how Frerin felt when he carried him off the battlefield.

          It is another tally in his long list of failures. All of them hurt.

          Some worse than others. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The calm before the storm?


	13. Open Up My Veins and I Don't Feel the Same

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions rise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh. I'm sorry that this took so long.
> 
> Also this chapter did NOT turn out the way which I wanted it to. Which is why it took so long to put up.
> 
> Also, All Fili All the Time.

Fili doesn’t divulge his destination as he leaves the cottage that morning. He simply says that he has business to take care of and Kili stares at him for a long moment. There’s a quirk to his eyebrow and a wrinkle in his chin which suggest that they’ll talk about it later but for the moment Kili jerks his head in acceptance.

          “I’ll see you for the noon meal,” Fili murmurs, brushing his lips over Kili’s as an apology. Kili returns the kiss, though his eyes are still troubled as Fili parts from him.

          Fili waits until Kili’s back disappears before he sets off to his destination. He doesn’t want to do this, in fact there’s many places he’d rather go than here, but the note which the messenger dropped off yesterday had been quite adamant that his presence was required. Fili fights the sudden churning of his stomach as his feet take him away from the main streets of Ered Luin and into a part of the city that he’s unfamiliar with.

          The brick house is expansive. Two stories tall, it’s actually larger than the cottage he shares with Thorin. The gravel in front of the house is stark, giving the whole property a somewhat foreboding atmosphere. It seeps into Fili’s bones as he takes the brass knocker and swings it firmly against the door.

          Only a few moments pass before a wizened old Dwarf stands before him, his wrinkled face betraying only a small flicker of surprise before it readjusts. “Sir,” the dwarf murmurs, inclining his head slightly. “Please come in.” Fili ignores the shudder which runs through his body as he crosses the threshold of the house and tries not to think of it as a warning that he should run now, while he still has the chance.

          The door closes and Fili almost jumps at the sound of the lock clicking into place. It’s stupid but he feels almost like he’s trapped in here and the thought chases itself around his mind until he’s almost frantic with it. Thankfully, the ancient dwarf regains his full attention with a soft cough and Fili gratefully looks at him. “What were you seeking here my lord?” he asks, with a voice as dry as crinkled parchment.

          “I received a missive yesterday from the Head of the house saying that he wished to see me,” Fili answers, even as his trained eyes swiftly take in the candles on the walls and the long hallway. There’s a hint of light at the end of it, promising a door or at the very least a window which he can throw himself through. With an escape route planned Fili allows his body to relax just a small amount.

          “Very well. Come with me,” and the dwarf starts up the stairs at a snail-like pace. Several times Fili wonders if his guide will collapse in a heap before they ever reach the Head Healer’s study but with a slightly wheezing groan the stairs are set behind them and Fili is ushered into a large room.

          There have been some slight attempts to soften the harsh brick of the walls—the desk is rich mahogany and several candles flicker throughout the room. A window is open, allowing light and a small breeze to enter the otherwise dour room. Books and papers litter almost every available surface, as do instruments, some of which Fili is familiar with and others which just look vaguely like torture devices. One whole wall of the room seems to be devoted to small glass vials, all with labels neatly printed on them.

          Fili’s inspection of the room is cut short as a broad Dwarf enters. His chestnut beard is trimmed short, barely brushing the top of his collarbone. His clothes have no unnecessary finery, though Fili’s expert eye can tell that the fabric is rich and soft. His eyes rake over Fili’s frame and Fili sees his eyes narrow at the sight of his swords strapped across his back.

          “You do not need weapons here,” is the salutation which the Head Healer offers to him before he snaps his heels together and makes a short bow. “Mahir, at your service.”

          Fili offers the customary greeting and his eyes follow Mahir as the healer pushes past him to sit on a rickety wooden chair. “Sit then,” Mahir impatiently gestures towards a chair. Fili clenches his fists and sits down, still fighting the urge to run and not look back.

          He knows very well the purpose of this house, though he’s never been here before. It is called a house of healing and from the texts and ointments, he supposes that Mahir might try to do just that but he also knows it is a losing battle. For here in this house live the dwarves who cannot be healed—those whom time has defeated, those with burns from the forge too great to mend, those whose bodies have been torn beyond all recognition. Some dwarves are lucky enough that their families are able to look after them and care for their every need. For the others, there exists this bleak brick house, the cold stones closing them in for the rest of their lives.

          With effort Fili wrenches his attention back to Mahir. “Do you know why I asked for you?”

          “To be blunt I haven’t the faintest idea,” Fili answers. Thorin would most likely be appalled at his manners—for all of his dislike of the house itself Mahir does perform important and necessary work here and he deserves respect—but Fili just wants this to be done so he can feel the warmth of the sun against his skin once more.

          “One morning about a week and a half ago, there was a dwarf found in the main village square, his arms bound and secured to a post by his own knife.” Fili’s heart chills as Mahir continues to speak and his skin prickles uncomfortably as memories start to creep back into his mind—Mim’s hands on his body, the stench of Mim’s breath as it wafted over his face, hearing Mim whisper mad endearments into his ear…Fili’s fingernails dig so hard into his palms that he thinks he draws blood.

          “I remember,” Fili murmurs and indeed he does. Someone had come to the study which he was currently using, told him the situation, and asked what he wished to be done. They had said that the dwarf was raving—nothing intelligible, just wild shouts and threats. Fili had suggested the House of Healing, guilt only troubling him for a moment as he wondered if Mim would ever set foot outside of the house again. He had thought that he was done with that horrific episode but apparently he was doomed to relieve the worst moments of his life over and over.

          “It was your recommendation that he come here and it was rightly done…but despite our best efforts at trying to calm the frenzy of his mind he raves night and day…about you, my prince,” Mahir finishes, his eyes carefully surveying Fili.

          Undoubtedly he catches the small tremble of Fili’s hand before he tightly grips the arm of the chair. “Indeed?” Fili asks, struggling to keep his voice steady and unaffected. “That’s strange.”

          “So I thought as well,” Mahir answers, his expression smoothing. Fili steadily returns his look, wishing desperately that he was anywhere else besides here. “Anything you could tell me would be…helpful…in assessing his condition.”

          Fili remembers the pain searing across the back of his skull, the hands fumbling at his groin, pinning his wrists above the wall…Horror sweeps through him and this time he fails to repress the shudder which shakes his body. Mahir’s keen eyes catch it and he leans forward.

          “I am a Healer,” he quietly assures Fili. “What is said here in confidence will never leave this room.”

          Fili swallows heavily and for a moment he wants to trust Mahir, wants to unburden his lingering disgust and loathing, wants to tell the healer that sometimes at night he still feels as though something filthy has been left on his skin and no amount of scrubbing will ever get it off. But shame engulfs him and he shakes his head.

          “We were once trained together as lads,” Fili murmurs as he clenches his toes inside his boot. “We spent time in hunting parties but our paths have been parted for the last several years. I have no idea why I would be on his mind.”

          Mahir sits back in his chair with a disappointed sigh. “Very well.” He steeples his fingers and looks at Fili overtop them. “Would you care to see him?”

          “No,” Fili says, the words tumbling swiftly from his lips. The thought of seeing Mim, of having to face him after that horrific night in the alley is enough to make his heart pound and his mouth dry. “No, I don’t feel that will be necessary.”

          “As you wish,” Mahir murmurs as he stands and gestures towards the door in a gesture of clear dismissal. “Good day sir.”

          Fili jerks his head in a short bow as he walks out.

          He practically flees from the house.

 -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

          Later that night Fili tosses and turns in a fitful sleep. It had been a difficult night following a difficult day. He’d not told Kili the reason for his dark and restless mood, even though Kili had pushed him to the point of irritation. He’d snapped at Kili then and Kili’s eyes had blazed in anger before Fili’s shoulders slumped.

          “Look…I just…I can’t talk about it now, all right?” Fili muttered. “Can we just…can we just go to bed?”

          Kili’s eyes were still narrowed, though the expression softened as he looked at Fili. “Fine,” he finally said. And they had curled up together, Kili’s body perhaps a little stiffer than usual but still bending to fit against Fili’s.

          But now nothing fits against Fili’s body as he writhes on the bed. His face contorts and a low moan filters through his lips as his dream firmly seizes him.

          _The laughing woman stands in front of him again, though this time her face is drawn tight with fear. A tall dwarf with golden hair paces in front of the door and Fili watches. Screams and snarls sound outside the cottage, far away but inevitably coming closer. He is terrified at the sounds and at the stark terror on the woman’s face. “Nain, please, don’t go out there,” the woman pleads._

_“They’re out there Dis, I can hear them,” the golden dwarf says. Fili wants to clutch his knees and beg him not to leave—he can tell that something terrible will happen if this large Dwarf leaves the house. He whimpers in fear and both adult dwarves turn to him._

_“It’ll be all right Fili,” the blonde dwarf says as he kneels down, reaching with a large hand to cup Fili’s cheek. “I promise.”_

_With that, he walks out of the door and Fili wails because he knows, he_ knows _that nothing but horror awaits outside and he doesn’t want that to happen to him…This Dwarf is important to him, he knows that, he can feel the warmth and safety radiating out from him and now he is gone—_

_The door slams open again and now the screams are right outside, the snarls and yowls stabbing through him and freezing his heart as his body shivers. The golden dwarf stumbles in through the door and shuts it with a bloodied hand. “Dis, run!” he shouts, though his voice falters. “Take the boys and run!”_

_The laughing woman laughs no longer. Instead her eyes are hard and a terrifying ax is held in her hands. “I’m not leaving you,” she says and Fili recognizes sorrow and love in her eyes as she looks at the golden dwarf whose body is stained red._

_Tears fall down his face as he looks at the two of them because they look so beautiful and so brave and he knows that it’s not going to last._

_“Fili, you run darling,” his mother says as she gives him a small bundle, “you take your—“_

_The door opens and howls rush in on them, fierce and terrifying and Fili screams as the faces rush in, all snarling and fierceness. The stench of death clings to them and he screams and he screams—_

_And then the claws stretching for him turn into hands and the yellow eyes turn into Mim’s cruel and mad eyes. Hands pin him down and Fili_ screams _—_

 

                  

 

          His own scream wakes him as he sits upright with a hoarse yell, the sheet sticking to his sweaty skin. Hands push and grab at him and, still immersed in the emotions of the dream, Fili strikes out blindly. A yelp from a familiar voice slams him into the present and immediately Fili’s eyes seek out Kili.

          “Mahal Kili, I’m sorry,” Fili breathes as he looks at Kili, ruefully rubbing the mark on his jaw. “Gods, I’m sorry are you all right?”

          “Last time I try to be nice to you,” Kili mumbles but he crawls back to Fili and easily wraps his taller frame around him. Fili gratefully turns into the warmth and comfort of Kili’s arms, pressing his face against Kili’s chest and feeling the soft hair against his nose and forehead. The horror of the dream takes a while to fade and Fili still clutches Kili close, even when his body begins to calm.

          “Please tell me what’s wrong,” Kili murmurs as his fingers start to rub at Fili’s shoulders. “And don’t tell say nothing, because something _has_ to be wrong.”

          The words wash over him as Fili closes his eyes and tries to drift off underneath Kili’s skilled fingers. A slight scratch against the skin of his shoulder brings his attention back to Kili. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, a small sigh of relaxation escaping his lips once Kili begins working on his back once more. “It’s just…I went to the Healing House today. There’s a problem with Mim.”

          “Who?” Kili asks, his voice a low rumble through Fili’s chest.

          It’s surprising to think that for as much as the mad dwarf had tainted Fili’s life, Kili doesn’t even know his name. “He was…we were hunting partners as children. I left that occupation and started my life here, but he choose to stay in the wilds. He was…He…”

          Words stick in his throat and Fili swallows hard to will his voice to come back. “He was…the alley,” Fili finally chokes out.

          He wonders if Kili’s even aware that his fingernails are digging into the relatively soft skin of his back, carving little half-moon marks into his flesh. Fili didn’t think it was possible to get even closer to Kili, but he’s proven wrong as the archer tightens his grip, so much so that Fili finds he has some difficulty in breathing. From where Kili’s arms are wrapped tightly around him, Fili can feel the small tremors shake his body.

          “Kili…” he tries, feeling unsure and somehow vaguely guilty, even though he doesn’t know why.

          “You’ve got a soft heart Fili and that’s not always a good thing,” Kili warns him, fingers tightening on his skin. “You should have let me kill him.”

          Fili shakes his head against Kili’s chest. “I couldn’t…it wasn’t enough…”

          Kili draws back so that he gazes down on Fili with an incredulous look on his face. “What do you mean it wasn’t enough?”

          “I couldn’t let you just _murder_ someone!” Fili protests, though a dark part of him does wish that he had let Kili do just that.

          “It wouldn’t have been murder, it would have been justice,” Kili argues, his dark eyes angrily narrowing.

          “Maybe it would have been but…Mahal Kili, I don’t want you to be a killer,” Fili confesses. “I didn’t want you to have to carry that.”

          Kili looks at him, expression unreadable, before he shifts his weight and rolls so that he’s on top of Fili. His dark hair falls down around their faces and some of it lays across Fili’s face, tickling him with soft sensation. Kili traces the nonsensical patterns on his cheek and Fili closes his eyes against the touch before Kili’s voice forces him to pay attention once more.

          “I just…I should have been there,” Kili confesses as he looks down on him. “I should have been able to stop him…damn it Fili…” Kili buries his face in the crook of Fili’s neck and shoulder and Fili instantly wraps his arms tightly around him.

          “It’s fine, everything turned out fine, we’re both all right,” he murmurs, as his hands travel soothingly up and down Kili’s back. Dull pain emanates from his shoulder as he processes the sensation of teeth lightly sinking into his flesh. The pain fades when Kili settles for gently worrying the skin between his teeth and Fili limply relaxes.

          They don’t talk for a good many minutes, enough for Fili to think that Kili’s finally managed to fall asleep. When Kili speaks a small startle runs through the blonde. “I meant what I said, about you having a good heart.”

          Fili hums acknowledgement before he pauses to consider Kili’s words. There’s something in the tone, almost regretful and envious which he’s unsure of. “You do too,” he says as he nuzzles the expanse of Kili’s throat before him.

          Kili sighs, almost like he’s preparing to correct Fili but he stops at the last minute and simply holds him tighter. “Thanks,” is all he says as he rolls off of Fili and pulls him close so that they’re lying back to chest. Fili allows himself to be molded into the shape which Kili wants and relishes in the heat which Kili’s arm gives off as he wraps it around his stocky frame.

          The uncomfortable feeling of discontent still rises from their bed but at least Fili has the reassurance of Kili to keep his own nightmares at bay.

 

 

         

 -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

         

 

          The frantic banging of fists on the heavy wooden door of the cottage startles Fili into wakefulness, his eyes snapping open and hand already reaching for a weapon before awareness fully slams into him. Beside him, Kili sits up and the dark-haired dwarf seizes his wrist before he speaks.

          “Someone at the door.”

          Fili rolls his eyes but Kili is already out of bed and starting towards the window. “There’s a group of dwarves at the door. Looks like there’s about seven or eight of them and they’ve all got weapons.” Fili can’t make out Kili’s expression in the dark of the room but Kili’s words are tense and clipped.

          “There’s got to be an emergency if they’re waking me up in the middle of the night,” Fili replies, trying to shove back the trepidation he feels. He quickly slips on his smallclothes and a robe and descends the stairs. He toys with the notion of telling Kili to wait upstairs but before he can put action to thought Kili is already behind him, dressed only in his smalls. Were the circumstances any different Fili would be mortified that these dwarves are going to know _exactly_ what he was up to before they disturbed his peace, but he doesn’t care now, not with the insistent pounding on the door echoing in his head.

          Fili opens the door and squints out, his constricted pupils assaulted by the sudden burst of light from the torches which the dwarves carry. Once he’s recovered enough to see properly his heart nervously trips. Kili was right. Eight dwarves, all carrying weapons of some sort. Their expressions are dour and nervous.

          One steps forward and Fili recognizes a member of the scouting party he met with last week, the one which warned him of the orc pack’s movements. His heart sinks as he starts to connect the pieces.

          “You told us to report to you if the orc pack drew too close to our borders.” The scout’s voice is terse but there is a hint of fear underneath the tough tone. “I rode ahead of my group to warn you—an orc pack on foot is headed this way.”

          Though it might be shameful, in that moment Fili wants nothing more than to run back upstairs and lock himself in his room. He almost turns his head and calls for Thorin before he realizes that even if Thorin were here he could not show such blatant weakness in front of those whom he will one day be expected to lead. His time has come, though sooner than he would wish.

          Kili moves forward, his presence solid and steady behind him. No one sees the stealthy hand which rests at the small of his back but Fili feels the fingertips press into his skin. A deep inhalation and he lets the breath run through his body, down to his fingertips which are practically tingling, down his core which clenches in stress and down to his legs, where the wood of the floor is smooth and cold underneath his bare feet. Fili is proud that his voice is steady when he tells the dwarves assembled before him, “Saddle the ponies. We’ll ride out and meet them.”

          He closes the door and dashes upstairs, feet thudding heavily on the stairs. Once in his room he haphazardly throws his clothes on, barely taking the time to make sure his shirt is the right side out, so unlike his usual careful routine. He doesn’t pause until he sees Kili dressing as well, his movements less flustered but no slower.

          “What do you think you’re doing?” Fili questions as he tugs his fur and leather coat on. His throwing knives are already holstered safely in his boots but he checks again just to be sure.

          “If you think that I’m going to stay here while you go out there then you’re insane.” Kili’s voice is not supposed to leave any room for argument but Fili tries anyway.

          “It’s not your fight,” he says and is answered by a vicious glare.

          “You think so?” Kili asks as he slips the strap of his quiver over his shoulder. Despite the seriousness of the situation Fili cannot help but feel pride in a gift well-given as he notes Kili’s short sword hanging on his left hip. The snap of a final adjustment of his leather belt brings Fili’s attention back to their conversation. “I’m not going to be your little wife and stay here while you go out and risk your life.” The look in his eyes is a little frantic and the hard grip Kili has on his wrist stops him from looping his belt on his waist. “Don’t ask it of me Fili.”

          Fili wants to ask it of him, wants nothing more than to command him to stay at the house but he recognizes that fear in Kili’s eyes because it is the same fear which dances in his chest. It is the terror of one who suddenly faces the knowledge that they might see someone they care about torn to shreds before their very eyes. Kili has not asked him to stay and let someone else go, so how does he have the right to ask it of him?

          “Just be careful,” Fili pleads as he buckles the double clasp of his belt. His gauntlets are next, the sheathed daggers a comfortable weight on his forearms. He adjusts his swords so that they rest more comfortably on his back before he pulls Kili into a brief, fierce kiss. “Don’t do anything stupid,” Fili says as he bumps his forehead against Kili’s, the hard contact reassuring.

          “As my prince commands,” Kili breathes, a hint of a smile crossing his face. It fades as he looks towards the door and then back at Fili. The desire to crawl back into the bed and hide underneath the covers comes again but Fili relentlessly squashes it down until he’s almost positive that it no longer exists. Though his stomach dances uncomfortably, he forces his feet to walk down the stairs and his hand to wrench open the door.

          The ponies wait for them, tossing their heads and whickering nervously, almost as if they’ve picked up the tension in the air. Fili scans the faces of the dwarves present and finds himself surprised that he knows most of them. Bofur, Bifur and Bombur all have come and they are armed—Bofur with a simple miner’s mattock, Bombur with a large hammer and Bifur with a spear which Fili has never seen before in his life. He’s not surprised to see Oin and Gloin; he knows that both of them have stood their own against orc packs before. The scouts join them to create a force which is not exactly stellar but is certainly better than nothing—though Fili desperately wishes that Thorin and Dwalin were with him.

          “We don’t have much time to lose lad, the scout said that they were headed with all speed towards the village.” Oin swings himself up onto his pony. Fili doesn’t bother answering him—the ear trumpet is gone and there’s no chance of the old dwarf hearing him without it.

          Fili mounts and spares a glance to his side to watch Kili—the archer clambers into the saddle without much difficulty though it’s hardly the most graceful of movements. Steeling himself, Fili digs his heels into the pony’s side and within moments the whole party is trotting swiftly down the street.

          When they reach the edges of the village Fili urges his mount into a canter, the wind whipping swiftly past his face. “Where did the scout say that the pack was?” he shouts, his voice ripped out of him by the wind.

          “He said more to the north,” Gloin answers as he draws almost even with him. “We should bear more towards the left.” Fili complies and for a few precious moments the only sounds are the beating of hooves against the ground. He allows himself to hope that perhaps the scouts were wrong, that the night is calm and quiet and this has all been a terrible misunderstanding. Perhaps he can return to bed, lose himself in Kili and later they will laugh about what a botch the scouts made of the whole situation.

          Then he hears the snarls. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -cue dramatic music-


	14. You I Can't Deny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leadership, pain, and confessions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, guys, guys, guess what?
> 
> I have a tumblr account now (I'm ridiculously excited about this) and you can find me on there as dothraki-shieldmaiden. Um...bear with me because I'm quite possibly the most ignorant person in the world when it comes to technology so it won't look really cool for quite some time.
> 
> And here, have a monster of a chapter again.
> 
> Enjoy.

At first Kili’s biggest worry is staying on the damn pony. He’s learned the rudiments of riding (not falling off is a big accomplishment) but he lacks the easy seat which all of the other dwarves seem to have. A hand in the rough mane and the thought of how stupid he would look if he fell off before they even reached the orcs keeps him upright, though his hand starts shaking when he hears the tell-tale screams of the orcs.

          Once, when he was out hunting, he heard those same howls. He’d swung himself in the tallest tree he could find on short notice and huddled there throughout the night, trying to stop his shivering. He could swear that his teeth were chattering so loudly that the orcs could hear them. This time however, he’s not running and hiding. Instead, he’s astride an animal that he doesn’t trust all that much and riding straight towards the snarls. The familiar thump of his quiver against his back doesn’t reassure him much—he’s killed many times with his archery, only this time what he’s hunting can hurt him back.

          Fili’s hair catches his attention and he concentrates on that brief flash of gold in the otherwise inky darkness of the night. It’s for Fili, he thinks, and with that in his head he can’t really regret anything.

          “There they are!” one of the scouts yells. Kili strains his eyes and then he sees them—shapes moving against the ground, coming towards them. His pony tosses its head and neighs loudly, which just sends another thrill of foreboding through Kili.

          The two groups draw closer towards each other, ponies still cantering determinedly forward. No words are spoken between the dwarves, though Kili thinks that they should be discussing what to do when the orcs actually arrive upon them. Not so much what they should do—that’s obvious—but a plan would be nice.

          These are the inane thoughts which keep bursting into his head. He doesn’t mind. It draws his attention away from the uncomfortable feeling of his stomach churning and the pounding tension in the bridge of his nose. He’s not ashamed to admit that fear hums through every inch of him, down to his very fingertips.

          “Dismount!” Fili’s voice breaks through his reverie and Kili woodenly does as he commands, as do all the other dwarves. The orcs are still drawing closer, their snarls magnified since they’ve caught the scent of enemies.

          With a swat on the rump, Fili sends his pony away and the rest follow his mount. Hopefully the beasts will return, though Kili strongly doubts it. If matters were different, he’d probably run away from what’s coming as well.  

          Fili glances over his shoulder and desperate, delirious love and worry rises in Kili, the taste of it strong and bittersweet in his mouth. His eyes prickle and he holds his bow with a tight grip to keep from throwing himself at Fili. _Please be careful,_ he mouths at Fili, knowing that the other dwarf cannot make out the movement of his lips, but saying it anyway.

          He does see Fili’s smile, sad and proud at the same time, spreading across his face slowly, like he maybe wants to stop it but can’t. Fili’s words, however, are almost lost amidst the sounds of blades being drawn and the swooshing of air as Oin whips his staff around. Kili hears them though, and thinks of how embarrassing it will be to faint before he even faces an orc.

          “I love you.”

          And before he knows exactly what he’s doing, Kili strides forward and in front of everyone, even Oin’s disapproving gaze, takes Fili’s face in his hands and kisses him. They separate and Fili looks at him with slightly unfocused eyes—until Kili punches him in the chest.

          Fili stumbles back and rubs his chest as he glares at Kili. “What was that for?” he snaps, though there’s still a twinkling light in his eyes which really shouldn’t be present under the circumstances.

          “That’s for telling me you love me right before we fight! Tell me afterwards!”

          “If you boys want to concentrate!” Bofur’s voice, unusually serious, breaks through their intense concentration and Kili’s head snaps around to see the orcs rapidly approaching them.

          “Be careful,” Fili murmurs again and Kili nods, his eyes focused only on the incoming targets.

          His heart is beating insanely fast, so fast that he’s almost dizzy with the improper flow of blood to his body, but everything seems to calm when his fingers brush the familiar fletching of his arrows. Though he can tell that events are passing quickly, too quickly to be real, time exists in a vacuum for him—hours pass in the time it takes him to draw an arrow, fit it to the bowstring and sight a target. He angles to account for the wind and exhales before he lets fly.

          The target he was aiming for, a big ugly brute, screams, falls, and does not get up. _Just like hunting,_ Kili thinks as he repeats the motion, his hands gaining more surety the second time around. He only has time for three shots before the orcs too close for his bow. Kili has just enough time to shakily replace his bow in its holster and fumble with his sword, his hands struggling with the strange movements. Another moment and they’re engulfed by the fury of the beasts.

          Screams and roars surround him, not all of them from the orcs. As he whirls around Kili can see Bofur swinging his mattock like a madman, Oin whipping his staff around in a deadly arc and Bifur…Kili always knew that there was something dangerous in him and now it’s proven as the dwarf falls on the orcs with all the rage of a berserker.

          “Watch your back lad!” Gloin yells suddenly, from right beside him. Kili springs to the side as an ax descends close to his head. With a high squeal, an orc falls, skull split open. Some of the spatter ends up on his boots.

          “Thanks,” Kili shakily whispers, but Gloin has already disappeared. Kili has just enough time to draw his sword before a rusted piece of metal is swung at him, almost grazing his face as he ducks backwards. He swings upward in a wild parry, all of Fili’s carefully taught steps disintegrating in the wake of pure survival instinct.

          He strikes blindly, swinging each time he sees a hint of movement. All thought has left his mind, the careful defenses he had planned completely lost. He can only react and under the relentless onslaught he is driven steadily backwards. Breath sobs out of him as he swings yet again, the clash of swords striking together driving all the way down his arm.

          “Kili!” Fili’s panicked voice reaches him and Kili viciously bites at his lower lip as he swings yet again. He puts all his rage behind the blow and manages to knock the sword out of the orcs hand. Without thinking, he shoves forward, the point of his blade piercing through armor. It takes more force than he thought it would, to cut through the orc, to push into skin and organs and then to draw his sword out again, christened with the black blood of his enemy.

          He wants nothing more than to stop for a moment—fear, horror and pride are all clanging within him and the cacophony of emotions makes it difficult for him to think—but as soon as he frees his blade yet another foe falls upon him. Kili repels this attack with slightly more confidence—he has already survived one orc! A slash across the chest ensures that this orc will not get up again.

          Kili now sights another target and thinks that perhaps swordplay is not much different from archery after all. Despite all of the blood around him he grins, and steps over the fallen body of his latest foe as he starts toward his newest opponent. His sword is already drawn back to strike when claws clutching his ankle bring him down.

          His chest hits the ground and the shock of impact sends his sword flying out of his hand. Kili watches it bounce a foot away, too far to reach. The claws still grab at his ankle, sinking into flesh. His skin splits and blood starts running down his calf all the way to his foot. The claws dig deeper and suddenly he’s being dragged backwards. He cries out in dismay and tries to dig his fingers into the dirt. Grass is torn out as he continues to be pulled away from the group and he feels his fingernails break on the dirt.

          Struggling wildly, Kili kicks out and manages to roll over, his eyes darting for any weapon. The orc, the one he thought he killed, stands before him, a jagged knife in his hand. _But I killed it…_ Kili thinks stupidly, body frozen in shock and disbelief. _Slashed my sword right across its chest, it was dead…_ The knife rises and he cannot do anything but stare helplessly at the orc, still wondering why it isn’t lying dead on the ground.

          He has just enough time to wonder how badly being stabbed hurts when the knife comes to rest in flesh with a sickening noise akin to fruit being split. Kili’s heart stutters when he recognizes the blood-stained fur around the cuffs of his savior’s coat, recognizes the thick leather gauntlets with knives tucked into them.

          “Fili,” he whispers, unable to tear his eyes from the sight of the hideous knife handle sticking out of the perfect skin on Fili’s arm. Fili’s eyes fix on him, all fear and anger and Kili pushes himself off of the ground. Without thinking he pulls the dwarven knife out of Fili’s undamaged gauntlet and strides forward. The blade sinks easily into the flesh of the orcs throat and Kili retracts it.

          It looks to Kili as though the dwarves are winning the battle but instead of disheartening the orcs, it makes them fight with more fury. Two throw themselves upon Bofur only to be beaten back by Bombur. Kili pulls Fili close to his side and they run forward. Kili’s eyes are on his sword, the pommel shining in the moonlight. From beside him Fili gasps. Rage and guilt such as he has never felt before fill Kili and he snarls as he grips the hilt of his sword. A yellow-eyed orc rushes at him and Kili roars as he swings with both hands. When it is rage which fuels him the severing of flesh, muscle and sinew does not seem like such a large task after all. The orc’s head tumbles to the ground and Kili viciously kicks it away from him.

          As swiftly as it began the sounds of battle cease, concluding with a roar from Gloin as he buries his ax in an orc’s chest. His rage disappears as soon as it appeared and Kili stumbles a little as he turns back to Fili. The blonde sits on the ground, cradling his arm as he looks around.

All around them are voices calling to ensure the well-being of the others but Kili can only concentrate on the spreading stain on Fili’s coat. He tries to pull at Fili’s arm to see the extent of the damage but Fili just bats him away, like an annoying child.

          “Fili please, let me see,” Kili whimpers, his fingers brushing over Fili’s knuckles. “Please, let me see…”

          “I’m fine!” Fili snaps at him and Kili immediately shrinks back. Regret blossoms on Fili’s face and he reaches out to Kili. Blood stains his hand, the red streams pooling in the grooves of his knuckles and the eddies of his fingernails.

          “Come on lad, let’s see that wound,” Oin says as he kneels beside Fili. Kili finds himself pushed away, suddenly unimportant. Fili cranes his head to look past Oin, his eyes meeting Kili’s with a silent apology swimming in the sapphire depths.

          “I’m fine, I promise, I just want to get home, please don’t worry, I’m fine,” Fili says and Kili feels slightly better that it’s not just him that Fili seems intent on pushing away.

          “Let me look and see,” Oin stubbornly insists. “If there was damage done to any tendons or bone then we want to know sooner rather than later.” With a hiss Oin gently pulls the knife out and Kili winces at the increase in blood which accompanies the movement. With ill grace, Fili submits to having his gauntlets and coat removed and the sleeve of his shirt cut off. Kili’s stomach turns to see the mangled flesh, the serrated blade having done what seems to be significant damage.

          But Oin seems pleased, though Kili cannot find anything to be happy about in the spreading scarlet marks on Fili’s arm. He’s never found himself to be squeamish but the sight of the stark crimson liquid on Fili’s lightly tanned skin makes him want to vomit. Fili’s eyes flit towards him and he smiles, though his lips quiver and his teeth grit together.

          When Oin finds the edges of shredded skin and starts to pull them back together with thin thread the nausea becomes too much for Kili to bear. Ignoring Fili’s questioning look he strides away, digging his fingernails into the skin on his palms. Fili’s quiet grunts of discomfort follow him, each twisting the knife of regret and shame a little more. Even though he’s much too far away Kili imagines that he can hear the needle piercing the flesh, the sound mingling with the knife sliding through Fili’s arm. His gorge rises before Kili forces his stomach down again.

          “There, we’re finished.” How in Mahal’s name can Oin sound so cheerful? “You’ll want to keep it washed to prevent infection and I want to see it in a few days, but we should be fine.”

          Kili stares in the wilderness as he listens to the sounds of the group mounting. Fili finally comes to him, uninjured hand resting on his shoulder. “We’re leaving.” Kili nods shortly before he turns, eyes automatically seeking Fili’s wound. The thick coat covers the bandaging, only a slight thickness in the sleeve hinting at the injury beneath.

          “Hey, we’re all fine,” Fili reassures. Kili finally looks up at his face, where a relieved and unsure smile lurks. He wants to slap Fili, tell him that it’s not all that simple.

          The wound could still become infected or there might be damage that’s not readily available…what if Fili loses the use of his arm? What if the orc had aimed higher, gotten Fili’s chest instead of his arm? And all of this happened just because he’d been weak, been stupid…

          Anything that happens to Fili will be his fault.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

          The ride home is agonizing. Not physically, though his wound throbs uncomfortably with every jolt of the pony. No, it’s due to the haunted, tortured looks which Kili keeps slipping him when he thinks that Fili can’t see him. Fili sees every glance—his skin practically tingles whenever he feels Kili’s eyes on him. By the time their ponies clop onto the cobbled streets Fili is practically gritting his teeth with tension and irritation. His arm aches.

          When they reach his cottage Kili dismounts, his foot tangling in the stirrup. The brunette hops on one foot for a brief moment before he unsnarls himself and disappears into the house. Fili glares as the door shuts and then turns his gaze to the two ponies which he now has to untack and brush down.

          “We’ll take care of them,” Bofur tells him as he takes the reins from Fili. “You’re injured. You should go take care of that.” Fili would almost believe his words if the plaited dwarf’s eyes did not gleam with a sort of mirth and dart towards where Kili disappeared into the house.

          Nevertheless, Fili is grateful for the favor. “Thank you,” he says before he walks into the cottage. He closes the door to Bofur’s yelling to Ori for help and breathes for a moment in the silence. He tries to center himself, tries to find the calm and untouched place which lurks deep within him but he is fighting a losing battle. Instead he starts his climb up the stairs to his room, where he can hear Kili’s soft footsteps against the floor.

          He cracks open the door to his room. Kili stands facing the window, his body illuminated by the faint light of one flickering candle. Fili closes the door behind him and stares at Kili’s back. There is something untouchable about him in this moment and he doesn’t like it.

          “How’s your arm?” Kili asks. There are so many hidden emotions and levels of concern in that simple question that Fili can never hope to unravel all of their complexities.

          “I’ll live,” Fili answers as he walks towards Kili. The archer does not turn to face him but continues stubbornly staring out the window.

          He stands a pace behind Kili and still the bowman does not turn to face him. Fili stretches out his uninjured arm and gently lays a hand on Kili’s shoulder. Surprise and concern flow through him when he realizes that Kili’s whole body is trembling. His mind instantly jumps to the worst conclusion and he tugs Kili around to face him, scared eyes scanning his body for a wound which was not instantly visible.

          “Are you hurt?” he asks as he runs his fingers over Kili’s shoulders down to his chest. He touches without any romantic intention, fingers searching for blood and bruises instead of erogenous zones in surprising places.

          “I’m fine,” Kili answers, his words and actions identical to Fili’s as he tries to shoo the blond away from him. He still ducks his head away and Fili’s concern only increases.

          “No you’re not,” he says. It’s the truth. Kili might not be injured but he is most certainly not fine.

          “What if you’d gotten seriously hurt?” Kili asks and finally, finally, he meets Fili’s eyes. Fili is staggered by what Kili has been hiding. Stark fear and guilt are writ plain in the deep brown pools and anguish is carved into the handsome, beardless face. “What if your wound gets infected? What if you hurt something and you can’t use your arm properly? It’s my fault because I was an idiot…if you’d died it would have been my fault…”

          Fili’s heart twists painfully in his chest, much more painful than the scratch on his arm, as a dry sob shakes Kili’s shoulders. It’s _wrong_ and it makes him want to rage and destroy anything which would ever make Kili sad—but it’s _him_ that’s done it and so he reaches out and crushes Kili to his chest.

          Sloppy, shaking kisses land on his cheeks and neck. Kili doesn’t seem to have a particular target in mind as he places his lips on whatever piece of Fili he can touch. Hands spastically clutch at him as Kili tries to touch every inch he can. Kili gasps into his ear, teeth biting at his shoulder and his neck and Fili’s arms tighten around his slender frame. His head spins, not from any blood loss but rather from the need which pours so openly from Kili.

          “I can’t imagine anything without you,” Kili finally chokes out as his hands tangle in Fili’s hair. The grip would be painful under any other circumstances but now Fili welcomes the sharp pull across his scalp. It links him to Kili, keeps him from disintegrating underneath the force of the swirling tempest of emotion.

          “Fili, please don’t ask me to,” Kili continues, nails scratching at his scalp. “Don’t ever ask me to live without you, please don’t…” Kili looks into his eyes and Fili swears that Kili sees right into the very heart of him, just as he can see into Kili’s soul.

          In that second, he sees a terrified boy, desperate for love and acceptance and lashing out when it was denied. He wonders if, in his eyes, Kili sees a lonely boy, searching for a friend and someone who will love him instead of his heritage. Then Kili the man stands in front of him, damaged maybe, but _perfect,_ so _perfect…_

          “Fili, I love you, you’re my One, there’s no one else…” Kili’s words babble out and Fili understands exactly what he feels because he felt it earlier on the field right before the battle. This is why it is so easy for him to press their lips together, feel Kili melt into him until he’s not sure where he ends and Kili begins.

          “Mahal,” Fili breathes when they separate, though they stay so close together that their lips brush when he says, “You’re mine as well, you’re my One and I’ll never let you be alone, I’ll always stay with you, I love you, I don’t ever want to be without you—“

          Kili stops him by mimicking his own actions from earlier. Fili strains upward to Kili, mouth easily opening in response to the tongue tracing the crease of his lips. Desire and love hum through his body, creating a new song, whose beat he is unable to resist, not that he would. He’s aware that with these words he’s crossed a threshold, permanent as a stone carving. Fili kicks his boots off as his hands find Kili’s worn buckle and unfasten it.

          “Say it?” Kili’s voice is a low uncertain plea.

          Fili pushes Kili’s coat off of his shoulders. “I love you.” He pulls Kili’s face down to his. Their lips stay connected, even when the backs of Kili’s legs hit the edge of the bed and he sits heavily down. Fili straddles him, strong thighs clamping around Kili’s thin hips. Kili moans into his mouth, hands on Fili’s hips.

          “Kili?” Fili hates that hint of a question in his voice but Kili complies without a second thought.   
          “You’re my One,” he whispers, craning his head back in an invitation which Fili immediately accepts. “Fili, please?” he whimpers as Fili scrapes blunt teeth over the bobbing Adam’s apple.

          Without hesitation, Fili latches onto the pale stubbly skin, applying suction with his mouth and nipping with his teeth, tongue darting out to soothe and playfully inflame the skin which must be on fire. He pulls back to admire his already red mark on Kili’s throat. Possessiveness, the likes of which his forefathers felt for their mountain hoard fills him and Fili thinks that he’s found his treasure at last.

          “Say it again,” Kili sighs as Fili works at his shirt.

          “You’re my One,” Fili answers as he slides the blue fabric off of Kili’s shoulders. He’s never been so convinced of anything his whole life.

 -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

          Kili closes his eyes as Fili stretches him out across the large plush bed. He opens them almost immediately, for to not see Fili is a strange sort of torture, one he can’t bear to inflict on himself tonight. He’s glad for the mattress underneath him, solid and definitely not moving—he feels positively drunk and dizzy and if it wasn’t ridiculous he would think that he could float away.

          Fili kisses him and the sensation is all soft lips and a sweeping tongue winding around his. For the first time in his life Kili is thankful for Fili’s iron self-control—normally he loves reducing the blonde to nothing more than a determined bundle of lust but he thinks that he might fall apart in the face of Fili’s full-blown desire. This is so much better; the carefully contained kisses which promise so much.

          Kili pants into Fili’s mouth as Fili relieves him of his shirt. His own hands work at Fili’s shirt and without breaking their contact the blonde shrugs it off. Their heated flesh slides together, muscle meeting muscle and Kili groans at the sensation of Fili’s erection pressing against him. Fili grabs the hair at the top of Kili’s head and starts a slow rut, one with the intention of reducing them both of a gibbering pile of need rather than with the intent of a quick release. It’s obvious from Fili’s actions that he means to draw this out and Kili has no wish to dissuade him.

          Still…”Need you,” Kili moans, loving the shudder which moves through Fili’s body, culminating in the sharp snap of Fili’s hips against his. Fili’s hand tightens in his hair and his kisses become more forceful, the hint of teeth against his lips. Fili’s mouth trails over his neck, down his chest where he pauses to flick the tip of his tongue over a nipple. Kili keeps his eyes on his golden lover, even though he wants nothing more than to throw his head back and beg Fili to take him now.

          Fili’s breath is hot against his abdomen as he does his best to quickly and suavely relieve Kili of his leggings. Practice has made him more adept at untangling the laces which Kili always manages to make a mess of and the slow slide of his breeches down his legs is accompanied by a sigh of relief from Kili as his erection is freed from its stifling confines.

          His muscles pull some as Fili lifts his leg to finish rolling his breeches off. As he reaches his right ankle Fili pauses and Kili’s heart sinks when he sees what Fili’s eyes are focused on. Fili looks back at him, confusion writ plainly in his gaze. Despite his own wishes, Kili’s eyes flick towards the dark brown stains on the fabric and the dried trails of blood on his lower calf, ankle and foot.

          “Why didn’t you tell me?” Pain and a hint of betrayal are forefront in Fili’s voice so Kili feels doubly guilty when his response is snappier than he originally intends.

          “Probably because you had a great ugly knife sticking out of your arm and I thought that was more important.”

          Fili’s look darkens and Kili has just a moment to contemplate whether or not he should feel worried before Fili covers his naked body with his still half-clothed one. The kiss which they share is rough and messy, one of the braids of Fili’s moustache ending up in Kili’s mouth. He holds it between his teeth, keeping Fili close as the swordsman looks at him through slightly unfocused, lust-darkened eyes.

          “You don’t keep this from me,” Fili warns, and is it arousal, anger, or the fact that Kili is still suckling the bead of his moustache in his mouth which slurs his words? “You tell me, you hear me?”

          Fili punctuates his words by a swift thrust of his hips to Kili’s groin and the scratch of rough fabric against his sensitive skin sends Kili keening for more. His hands scramble for purchase along the carved muscles of Fili’s back as his legs hook around Fili’s hips. Fili’s elbows bracket his face, the elder resting his weight on his forearms as he tries to recapture the slow, teasing rut of earlier. Kili grins to find that Fili cannot quite rein himself in and his thrusts come faster and harder each time.

          “Fili,” Kili gasps as Fili’s clothed erection rubs over him in just the right way. He licks at Fili’s jaw, trying to get the slightest taste of him. “I need to touch…” The long drag against his length makes his mouth fall open and for a moment Kili forgets his own name, let alone what he was going to say. “P-please, I need…” A swift snap from Fili’s hips thrusts him an inch or so across the bed and sends a high pitched whimper from Kili to mingle with the low growl from Fili.

          _“Gods,”_ Fili moans and Kili relishes the noise he makes when he pulls their bodies apart, a low moan of displeasure. He watches Fili make short work of his leggings, blue eyes meeting dark. A faint flush dashes across Fili’s nose but it disappears when Kili wets his lips in anticipation.

          “Come here,” Kili murmurs once Fili is bare. He spreads his legs in blatant invitation and yes, it might be slightly whorish of him but Fili certainly doesn’t seem to mind as he swiftly settles himself between Kili’s thighs. Desperate mewls fall from his lips as their cocks rub together and it’s already so good, but tonight is different, tonight is _wonderful_ because Fili loves him, he’s just said it…so good, the slow catch of the head of his cock against Fili’s but it could be so much _better._

          Kili gropes underneath the pillows and in the sheets for the small bottle he’d optimistically hidden there a few days ago (always good to be prepared, he hates saliva as lubricant) and he grins against Fili’s skin when his fingers come into contact with the cool, slippery surface. Fili senses the difference and pulls just far enough away to look at him with an eyebrow raised. Nervous suddenly, Kili presses the bottle into Fili’s hands with trembling fingers.

          Fili looks at the bottle and back at Kili, brow wrinkled in confusion. “Oil? Why’d you have oil in the…” His brow smoothes and his mouth falls open in an expression which would look ridiculous if it weren’t for the swiftly suppressed flash of lust which sweeps across his face. “Oh.” Kili nods as desire and anxiety flutter within him. _“Oh.”_

          “Want you,” he manages, though it feels like his throat’s closing up. “Please…”

          Fili’s eyes widen and he shakes his head in tiny little jerks. “I can’t…I’m not…” Kili’s heart sinks as Fili continues to spout little interrupted denials before he finally comes out with his ultimate refusal. “I’m not a… _woman_.”

          Kili rolls his eyes. Though the thought of sinking into that hot virginal body sends a flare of vicious lust spearing through him he won’t fool himself into thinking that it’s ever going to happen…even if the fantasy of Fili spread out beneath him, muscles twitching and golden hair cascading across the blankets is a dear one indeed.

          Kili’s fingers tangle in the blonde mane as he pulls Fili down for a kiss. He growls into Fili’s lips as they separate, punctuating his words with little nips to Fili’s lips and braids. “I want you inside _me,”_ he breathes, pulling away to see Fili’s reaction.

          Fili wants too, he can see it in the dark yearning in the blue depths; can see it in the swift bob of Fili’s throat as he swallows. For an instant there’s a predatory smirk in the corner of Fili’s mouth but it’s gone all too soon, replaced by concern and shame.

          “I don’t…I can’t…” Fili’s whole face is red and he’s shaking his head in refusal and denial, like he thinks Kili will believe him, like he’s unaware of the fact that Kili’s felt every twitch of his cock while they’ve been talking.

          Only unshakable intuition that the prince wants this as well would lead Kili to take Fili’s hand and bring it to rest above his stomach. He one-handedly pops the top off of the oil bottle and liberally pours it over Fili’s hand. Some spills to his stomach and Fili’s eyes trace the path which the droplet takes, over his abdomen to his side before it bleeds into the sheets.

          Kili smears the oil over Fili’s fingers until both of their hands are slippery. It’s difficult getting a firm grip on Fili’s fingers but he somehow manages as he leads Fili’s hand past his aching cock, past his balls, and to the tight ring of muscle which waits.

          He hisses in a breath as Fili experimentally brushes his index finger over the sensitive flesh. Arousal, fear and curiosity war for dominance on Fili’s face as he circles Kili’s entrance. Kili keeps his grip on Fili’s hand, holding it against him. It’s becoming harder and harder not to just push himself down on that tentative finger but Kili summons the admittedly not large reservoir of his restraint and lets Fili tease and explore. Though, he thinks with gritted teeth, if Fili doesn’t do something soon he might just have to take matters into his own hands.

          The first press inside is burning slow and Kili sighs in relief as he relaxes his lower body as much as he can. In any other situation he would laugh—Fili looks so horrified and yet so pleased with himself as his finger breaches him. Kili can’t hold himself back any longer—he rolls his hips and Fili’s finger, so well-coated, slips inside him to the third knuckle. Fili’s eyes widen at his actions and the low groan of satisfaction which Kili lets rumble through him.

          Kili cracks open an eye to look at Fili, who stares at the hand between Kili’s legs like he’s not quite sure of how it ended up there. Fighting the urge to roll his eyes (Fili thinks _too damn much_ ) Kili reaches to tug on one of Fili’s braids. “You can move it if you want,” Kili suggests gently.

          “It won’t hurt?” Though Fili’s eyes are wide and his tone is anything but assured his finger is already sliding out an infinitesimal amount. There’s something truly touching about Fili’s concern mingling with his desire and inexperience and it creates a heady concoction for Kili which is guaranteed to bring him pleasure.

          “Mahal no,” Kili assures as Fili pushes in fully once more. He can feel Fili’s finger moving in him, exploring his body as miners would explore a new cave and he has just enough time to feel a spike of excitement before Fili, with all the luck of a beginner, is brushing against the bundle of nerves, _there, there, there…_

          Kili becomes aware that he’s repeating the word aloud and that he’s clenching the hapless sheets between his white-knuckled fingers. Fili looks astonished with his reaction and repeats his motions, sending Kili’s hips bucking. When the pressure on his prostrate ceases, much to his regret, Kili regains enough presence of mind to lift his head and playfully glare at Fili.

          “Don’t tell me you’ve never done this before,” he smirks and Fili’s huffed laugh is its own reward.

          Kili whimpers in disappointment as Fili’s fingers withdraw fully before he begins to pant in anticipation at the feel of a second finger running over his entrance. He manages to meet Fili’s eyes, though his vision is becoming hazier by the moment. “It truly won’t hurt?” Fili asks and despite the fact that it’s entirely inappropriate, Kili feels the sting of tears in his eyes.

          “No, it won’t,” he promises. Fili nods, comforted by his words and Kili can only whine in appreciation as he feels the stretch and burn of a second finger entering him alongside the first. Fili twists his fingers and Kili’s stomach wrenches as a hot spike of pain-pleasure shoots through his body. He tries to keep his eyes on Fili but it becomes too much when Fili starts a halting rhythm which slowly increases. His head falls back to the bed, eyes staring unseeingly at the ceiling as he draws his legs up farther.

          “Good?” Fili asks, and there it is, the hint of the arrogant prince which Kili loves and it makes his cock twitch just thinking of Fili debauching him with that little cocky smirk on his face.

          “Yes, yes,” Kili helplessly nods as he rolls his hips forward to encourage Fili. Fili thrusts his fingers forward in response and a howl tears out of Kili as his fingers land against his prostrate. He sobs for breath as Fili presses firmly against the bundle of nerves, obviously connecting the sounds Kili makes with the placement of his fingers.

          “There?” Fili murmurs, and now there’s hardly any hint of hesitation or uncertainty in Fili’s voice, which is what Kili wants, there’s just lust and want thickening his words and turning his normally smooth voice into something low and gravelly. Kili in comparison, sounds pathetically high pitched as he wails for more, more, _yes please more_ and Fili obliges as he seamlessly adds a third finger and Kili thinks that he might just die here.

          Fili kisses him, wet breath and tongue tracing over his lips as his fingers pick up speed. Kili can taste his lover’s self-restraint tearing apart and bites at Fili’s chin to shred it just that little bit more. He needs Fili, needs him now and wants him like he has never wanted anything in his life. The desire tears through him as emotions resonate with the physical need and the result is enough to make Kili’s toes curl.

          “Fili please,” Kili whimpers when Fili pulls away so that he can pant against his face. Kili can feel Fili’s cock pressed into his thigh, impossibly hard and promising so much. “Please, I need you, please…”

          Fili nods, just the briefest hint of worry furrowing his brows. “Yeah,” he agrees and Kili groans at how rough Fili’s voice sounds.

          Fili’s fingers slip out of him and Kili can’t help the small protest of loss which comes out of his lips. Dazed eyes search out Fili in the candlelight. The blonde studies the small bottle before he pops the top off. Dark blue eyes meet his, the pupils blown wide with lust, and Kili gestures to him.

          “Here,” Kili pants and Fili obliges, crawling up to the bed so that his pelvis is even with Kili’s face. “Let me…” Kili pours the oil, spilling some on the blankets but the majority lands in his palm. Though his hand has stroked Fili to completion several times this feels different—the slipperiness of the oil making his normally coordinated movements sloppy and faster than he might like. Of course Fili isn’t helping much, what with his shallow thrusts into the liquid hollow of his hand and with those enticing little growling moans which he grits out through clenched teeth.

          It’s when Fili throws his head back to expose the long line of his throat that Kili pulls his shaking hand away. “Now,” Kili pleads, nodding fervently as Fili moves into place between his spread legs. Kili hooks his ankles around the small of Fili’s back and supports his weight on his elbows as he looks at Fili.

          The pressure of a cock at his entrance is enough to make him keen but Fili still holds back. Kili bites his lip to keep harsh words from escaping because Fili’s face is beautiful with a precious wondering smile on his face.

          “Please Fili,” Kili whispers, his eyes fluttering shut as Fili slowly pushes forward. His body falls backwards and his hands grip the forearms on either side of his body. The muscles underneath his hands flex as Fili pushes his way forward, gasps and moans spilling from his lips. Kili groans in response, looking up at Fili through his eyelashes.

          Fili’s mouth hangs open, his face frozen in indescribable pleasure as his hips inch forward. “Oh,” he stutters, his breath coming faster. “Oh, oh Kili, _Kili…”_ With the final cry of Kili’s name he sheathes himself fully. Kili whines in pleasure, fighting the urge to move because he doesn’t want this to be over just yet, he wants this to last for a lifetime.

          Finally Fili looks down at him and if Kili thought that he looked wrecked before, he looks utterly ruined now, a delicate bead of sweat tracing down his cheek, hair escaping braids, muscles twitching and flexing and those beautiful dark blue eyes gazing down at him with nothing but desire and love in their depths. “Can I…?” Fili asks, and shifts his hips to get his point across.

          Kili grins stupidly, sparks of pleasure scraping against his mind and body as Fili starts to pull out. “I’ll kill you if you don’t,” he teases, except his assured tone is lost in a cry as Fili pushes forward into him. His perfect, golden lover has always been brilliant and he picks up his rhythm with slow, purposeful thrusts which send sensation flooding through every inch of him.

          Kili clutches Fili’s arms with his hands, licks at Fili’s neck when Fili buries his head in the crook of his shoulder. The salty taste of sweat hangs heavy on his tongue and Kili laps again at the skin, frantic motions of his tongue mimicking the blaze which spreads through his body. Fili’s movements become more hurried and Kili feels the hot rush of breath spread across his skin.

          Never would he have thought that he would hear Fili’s whining grunts in his ears, the sound of a dwarf losing all semblance of control. He wants to see Fili, to gaze into his face as the blonde works over him, but this is almost as good, Fili’s tawny locks spread over his face and head buried in his skin. Kili digs his fingernails into Fili’s shoulders, feeling the tell-tale signs of orgasm coil deep in his abdomen and start to spread to his groin.

          Fili pushes himself up and isn’t that a gorgeous sight? His lips swollen, face flushed and a wild lusty look in his eyes which softens into something indescribable when he meets Kili’s dark eyes. “I…Kili…” Fili’s breath stutters as his hips push relentlessly forward. “I don’t…not going to last long…”

          “Don’t hold back,” Kili whispers, pushing his hips upwards into Fili’s in encouragement. Fili’s head drops forward again, silver beads tickling Kili’s chest as his hips begin a punishing rhythm which Kili eagerly meets. “Fuck me _azyungal_ ,” he whispers and Fili whines low in his throat as he thrusts sharply into him.

          Kili’s hand has just reached his cock, just begun to pump himself to release when Fili snaps forward and—His vision turns white for a moment then returns to see Fili’s shocked expression which slowly turns smug, so unbearably cocky that it makes Kili yearn for the prince to fuck him harder. “There?” Fili asks, the slightest quirk of an eyebrow only adding to the already blinding ecstasy building in him.

          “Gods yes, please, please, please,” Kili babbles and begs, hand jerking relentlessly at his cock as Fili pushes in again, thrusts slowed in an attempt to always land on the same spot. _Mahal,_ but he can’t believe that this is Fili’s first time, every one of his movements is so sure it feels like they’ve done this a billion times already and yet it is sparkling with the dizzying prospect akin to an untapped vein of _mithril_.

          When Kili comes, it’s with a wordless wail torn from his lips, back arching up in a taut curve underneath Fili. His eyes roll back in his head and he feels his hips jerk against Fili’s, the last little strings of sensation playing through his body. For a few blessed seconds he is nothing but feeling, nothing but the bliss which hums through his body and it is so beautiful that he thinks his heart might stop then and there.

          When he drifts back into his body, languid and boneless, Fili has stopped moving and instead stares at him with awe. “Gods,” Fili whispers and Kili can feel the movement of his cock where it is still buried within him. “Aule, you’re so beautiful…”

          “So are you,” Kili sighs, unable to move from where he lays.

          Fili shifts and Kili makes an effort to spread his legs wider for him. The way that Fili worries his lower lip between his teeth is utterly disarming, as is the soft question “Can I?” Kili nods and slumps into the mattress, eyes drifting closed as he surrenders to the powerful call of _feel._ Fili easily recovers his lost speed, the thrusts into his pliant body swift and guaranteed to bring release. Kili forces his eyes open just so he can catch a glimpse of Fili working over him, muscles flexing with effort, the erotic twitch of abdominal muscles as he pushes into his body.

          “Come for me,” Kili murmurs, a lazy smile crossing his face as Fili pushes hard into his body twice before he throws his head back and howls, an animalistic sound which somehow morphs into Kili’s name. Afterwards, his arms wobble as he collapses onto Kili’s chest, body still shuddering with aftershocks. Kili winds his arms around Fili’s shoulders, holds him close as he hums and soothes, fingers running over skin and hair.

          A low mumble sounds against his skin and Kili strains his ears to decipher Fili’s words. “Love you, love you, love you…” The words repeat until they become a soothing chorus, one which gains power every time Fili speaks. Kili tightens his grip on his prince, suddenly too overcome to say anything.

          “Love you,” Kili whispers back, the words delicious and hopeful on his tongue. “Love you so much Fili.” Fili’s mouth captures his in a possessive kiss tinted with tenderness, the juxtaposition such that only Fili could manage it.

          When Fili slips out Kili makes a small face of discomfort and distaste (it’s the _sound_ that gets him, every single time and this is no different) and he surveys the mess they’ve made of the bed. His stomach is sticky and, heedless of Fili’s disappointed moan, Kili reaches for his shirt to wipe off the mess. He really should wash off properly, he contemplates, but that would mean having to leave the bed and the warmth and comfort of Fili. No, washing up can wait for the morning, he decides as Fili pulls him close, brushing feather light kisses over his face and hair.

          “Do I even have to say that that was amazing?” Fili asks.

          Kili nuzzles into Fili’s cooling skin, inhaling the scent of their mingled sex which still clings to him. “No, but it would still be nice if you did.”

          “That was amazing,” Fili responds immediately and Kili smiles against his skin. Kili whines in protest as Fili pulls away, but it’s only to blow out the still valiantly flickering candle, before he returns. With the room plunged into darkness, Kili’s other senses strengthen and he allows himself to be lulled into a dozing state by the steady sameness of Fili’s breath.

          “Love you,” Kili mumbles, already halfway asleep. “Love you.”

          “Sleep _sanazyung,”_ Fili yawns, arms still tightly wound around his body. “Sleep.”

          With a light heart and a smile, Kili obeys.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

          It’s Kili’s low growl reverberating against his back which jerks Fili out of what was a sound sleep. Immediately his senses are alert and searching, even if his mind has yet to catch up. Light just barely filters through the curtains on his window, throwing the room into half shadows as Fili’s bleary eyes search the darkness.

          Kili growls again, the sound feral and unfamiliar in his throat. Fili looks over his shoulder to see Kili’s lips bared in a savage snarl, eyes wild and threatening. The arms which had been loosely draped over him suddenly pull him tight against the archer’s body and one of Kili’s legs hooks over his shins. Kili’s eyes do not look down at him but are instead fixed on another.

          Fili turns his head, already knowing what he will see.

          Sapphire links with azure as he beholds his uncle, Thorin Oakenshield. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I regret nothing.


	15. Your Boldness Stands Alone Among the Wreck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin's homecoming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter today, mainly because I wanted to get SOMETHING out.

_Thorin had known something was amiss when they approached the borders of Ered Luin. Normally there was just a single lazy guard, half asleep as they watched the unchanging rolling hills and little forests. But now, on his homecoming, he was greeted by ten dwarves riding out, each of them fully armored and armed. Despite his outwardly calm face Thorin felt his heart start to beat faster. Something had happened. Fili…_

_Thorin had signaled his company to stop with a single raised hand as they waited for the scouts to reach them. It would not do to have his own people mistakenly attack him. There was a relieved shout when the dwarves drew close enough to make out their faces. Thorin caught a glimpse of a thick auburn beard and swiftly put a face to the name. Gloin. He ran one of the most reputable smithing shops in the whole of Ered Luin._

_“By my beard, it’s good to see you back sir!” Gloin smiled broadly as his pony drew closer to Thorin’s. “This is an eventful day!”_

_“It would seem so,” Thorin murmured. “Tell me, what has happened here that we must be greeted by so many? Surely you have not fared that poorly in my absence?”_

_A small frisson of laughter swept through everyone, fueled by relief and nerves alike. A wry smile crossed Gloin’s face. “Indeed not, much the same as always. But there was an orc pack which came too close to our borders.”_

_Fear seized Thorin’s heart. “Fili,” he instantly demanded, his fingers tightening on his pony’s reins. “Where is he?” From the corner of his eye he saw Balin draw closer to him._

_“He’s safe at home,” Gloin instantly soothed. “Your lad led the raiding party himself.” Despite his anxiety a stab of pride shot through Thorin. That was the nephew he’d raised, acquitting himself. “Did take a little scratch defending the boy.”_

_Thorin’s eyes widened at the thought of Fili being hurt before they narrowed at Gloin’s last words. “Boy?”_

_He would never have thought it, but Gloin actually squirmed in his saddle. “Aye well…” He did not meet Thorin’s eyes. “That’s something that I’ll let you handle…don’t seem right me interfering in personal business…”_

_“Gloin.” Thorin’s voice was the whipcrack of command, leaving no choice but for the smith to answer._

_“While you were away the lad’s well…he’s found himself a friend.” Gloin said no more, though from the look on his face Thorin could tell that there was a great deal more to say. So be it. He would find out all the necessary information from Fili himself. All he needed to know was that his nephew was safe._

Despite Gloin’s assurances anxiety and fear still run rampant through Thorin’s body. He knows that these emotions will not cease until he actually sees Fili and this need propels him off the back of his pony and through the doorway of his cottage. Another stab of worry attacks him when he realizes that the kitchen is empty—by this time Fili is usually up and breaking his fast. Instead, the stillness of the house hangs over him like a funeral shroud and reinforces the feeling that something is undoubtedly wrong.

          Without caring for the noise he makes or the mud he’s leaving on the steps, Thorin thunders upstairs. The door to Fili’s room is closed but at the moment Thorin cares nothing for his nephew’s privacy. He pushes the door open, steeling himself for what he foolishly believes to be the worst case scenario—a Fili covered in bloody bandages, bones broken and body disfigured. Instead, what he finds could be considered worse, so much worse.  

          Fili lies on his side facing the door, slumbering peacefully. His nephew’s mouth is slack in sleep and in the twilight of the room Thorin can glimpse a bandaged forearm peeking out from underneath the covers. But what truly gives him pause stares him in the face with anything but a friendly expression.

          A young dwarf, perhaps a few years younger than Fili, with wild dark unbraided hair, rises from the blankets behind his nephew. The youngling’s chin bears no beard, just scruff, yet the youth still growls at him and his arms snake possessively around Fili’s body, leaving no doubt in Thorin’s mind exactly what Gloin had meant when he’d put a strange inflection on the word _friend._ At Thorin’s hesitation the dwarf actually _snarls_ at him, like an untamed animal.

          It’s this sound which rouses Fili from sleep. With a pang, Thorin notices how his eyes immediately search out the youth, his nephew’s hand brushing against one of those which holds him so tightly, before Fili turns to him. In the prince’s face Thorin reads shock and a dawning resignation and—this surprises him—a stiffening resolve and perhaps even a glint of defiance and pride. Thorin steels himself for a battle of epic proportions—judging by the determined set of Fili’s jaw he will not yield with grace.

          As he tries to gather the right words, Thorin’s eyes flick from his nephew to the dwarf behind him, whose head has dropped to Fili’s shoulder. His gaze flits back and forth and his stomach drops while his heart starts to beat unbearably fast. It’s impossible. It can’t be. It would be coincidence beyond all help of Aule…his eyes dart between the two, taking in the shape of the jaw, the cut of the cheek, the colour of the eyes…

          No. No, no, no…the dark hair, the Durin hair, hadn’t he commented on it when the boy was born? And those eyes…Dis’s eyes, he’d recognize them anywhere. The slightly imperial tilt of the head as flinty eyes surveyed Thorin? Frerin, all over. And the smile which ghosted across his face as Fili squeezed one of the hands on his chest…that smile was pure Nain.

          “No,” Thorin pleads, his feet stumbling backwards. “Please, Mahal, no.”

          Fili flings the sheet around his waist as he sits up but Thorin’s eyes remain glued to the dark haired dwarf behind him ( _Kili_ , his mind whispers treacherously, but he will not believe it, not yet, there is still hope), who glares at him as though he wants nothing more than to rip out Thorin’s throat. “Uncle…” Fili begins, his face more uncertain in light of Thorin’s shock. “It’s not…I can explain…”

          “No.” He doesn’t mean for his voice to sound so harsh but he doesn’t want to hear how his nephew ended up in bed with this dwarf, doesn’t want to hear what he can already see for himself. The two move in tandem—their eyes hardly glance at each other, yet they seem to have a full conversation before they both turn their full attention back to him. Thorin thinks he might be sick as he watches them both, all of his doubts and fears finally coming home to roost. His sister’s tears, Balin’s quiet counsel, Dwalin’s stony silence…hadn’t he ignored them all? Is this the price of his arrogance, thinking he could change their fates?

          “Listen to him.” The brunette speaks and underneath the slight difference in accent Thorin can still recognize the lilt of his sister’s voice with a hint of Frerin’s growl. And the way that the youth tosses his hair over his shoulder—hasn’t he performed that act many times in a single day?

          “What?” Thorin’s voice sounds little more than a croak. He’s looking for similarities where none exist, pointlessly torturing himself. He must stop. All that matters now is getting this dwarf away from Fili.

          “I said listen to him, he’s trying to explain.”

          Fili lays a pacifying hand on the brunette’s wrist and though the youth darts angry eyes towards the blonde the aggressiveness fades from the set of his shoulders. Dark eyes still survey Thorin, sullen and suspicious. Even when Fili gifts Thorin with his full attention, the king in exile notices that his nephew keeps his loose hold on the other dwarf’s wrist.

          “I know that this must be a bit of a shock,” Understatement of the Age, Thorin thinks, “but please let me explain.” Fili sounds completely rational, even though his face still looks shocked and guilty, and underneath his horror and anger Thorin is vaguely proud of his heir’s composure. “This is Kili…”

          _NO._

_NO._

_NO._

“I know,” Thorin finds himself gasping out, legs finally giving out. He stumbles against the thick wood of the wall behind him, grateful for its presence. Fili’s worried voice crashes against his skull and even the dark haired dwarf (who is he trying to fool? It is Kili, his sister-son) looks vaguely concerned.

          “Uncle? Please answer me, should I get one of the healers?” Thorin wrenches his attention to Fili who stands in front of him with the sheet knotted around his waist. His gaze strays to the dwarf hastily slipping into a pair of breeches. Fili sees where his look has wandered and the strange mix of guilt and pride mingles in his nephew’s eyes. “Please uncle, we can talk about this later if you would prefer, obviously you’re troubled by this…”

          For a moment Thorin is tempted by the idea. He could tell Fili that yes, talking later seems like a wonderful idea and then he could slip away from Ered Luin and disappear into the wilderness, away from this horrific mistake. Then Kili lays his hand on Fili’s bare shoulder, fingers tangling in the blonde locks in a gesture which is so casually possessive that it makes Thorin’s stomach twist. And the look which Fili sends Kili, full of gratitude and lingering hunger, is anything but chaste.

          No. He must tell them. But how? He notices the helpless shrug which Kili gives, how Kili’s fingers tighten against Fili’s skin, how Fili leans his head ever so slightly towards Kili’s hand…He could keep it a secret. Only four dwarves know the truth and Thorin could swear all of them to silence yet again.

          He discards that idea before it is even fully formed in his mind. They are _brothers_ for Durin’s sake and what they have been doing…even if it was through ignorance it is still a violation of the natural order. It cannot be allowed to continue.

          But how? Fili’s brow wrinkles in concern and he turns to Kili to whisper in the brunette’s ear. Kili nods and disappears out the door while Fili turns his attention back towards Thorin.

          “Kili’s going to get a healer, you’re obviously not well.” There is nothing but concern for his apparently ill uncle in his nephew’s voice.

          “No!” Thorin finally finds his voice and the resulting roar startles Fili into taking half a step away from him. “No, stop him Fili. No one must leave this house.”

          Even though Fili furrows his brow he immediately races down the steps, the sound echoing through the house. Quiet voices converse downstairs and Thorin lets the hum of their talk wash over him. He still has no plan as to how to break the news, but he is at least sure that neither one of the boys must be allowed to leave the house. He cannot have the whole of Ered Luin awash in gossip. It is unavoidable but he can at least try to prepare his nephews for the storm of other’s scorn which is about to be heaped upon them.

          Both of the boys ascend the stairs and stand before him—to Thorin’s relief Fili’s managed to find some clothes. By this time Thorin has recovered his posture and paces around the room. He tries to breathe deeply and become a king instead of a horrified uncle. Fili notices the difference immediately and his whole demeanor changes—he straightens his shoulders and clears his throat. Kili also changes, though not in quite the same way. His eyes narrow an infinitesimal amount and his gait switches into more of a slink, the stalk of an animal which has sighted a threat.

          Maybe it’s the sight of a dwarf half his age openly challenging him but Thorin still feels unsteady, as though the world itself is lurching underneath his feet. He would be a fool if he did not notice Kili’s sharp eyes taking in the small stutter in his steps. Fili also sees it but instead of the predatory gleam which lights in Kili’s eyes there shines only worry in his golden nephew’s.

          “Downstairs,” Thorin commands, keeping his voice clipped. He will not have this talk with them in this room, not when the lingering smell of sex still hangs heavy in the air. He turns towards the door, waiting to follow the two boys downstairs. Fili automatically turns, a lifetime of obeying Thorin’s orders taking hold, but he stops once he realizes that Kili is not directly behind him.

          Instead, the brunette dwarf surveys Thorin with the intensity of an animal deciphering a trap. Thorin glares at the young dwarf before he rolls his eyes and steps out of the room. Little does he want to engage in a battle of stubbornness with his sister’s son. If the child wants to see him as a threat to the point that he does not want his back to Thorin, so much the better. Thorin keeps a wary ear listening behind him, just in case the dark haired dwarf is wilder than he thinks.

          Despite his misgivings, Thorin makes it in one piece to the kitchen. He sits heavily on one side of the table and the younger dwarves sit facing him. Kili lays his hand on top of the table where it is automatically covered by Fili’s. They sit close together, light and dark, shoulders touching, hips pressed together. Thorin would have to be blind in order not to miss what they so blatantly advertise.

          Bright accusatory pain slices through him. This is his fault, the price for his hubris. He always thought that he would pay the toll but instead it is Fili, who gently strokes the back of Kili’s hand with his index finger. Instead, it is Kili, who still glares insolently at him. Had he told the truth, years ago, he could have avoided this altogether. Instead, a scene that he could not even imagine in the darkest of his nightmares faces him. He always thought that if anyone were to destroy his nephew it would be orcs. He never thought it would be himself.

          Again the idea of lying once more flits through his mind, tantalizing and tempting. But Fili’s blue eyes look at him, worried and caring, and Thorin knows that he can no longer keep lying to his nephew. Fili deserves more than that from him. Kili, for all that he has deprived him of, deserves more. Thorin takes a deep breath and steels himself.

          All that remains is to break them.

 

 -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

          Fili cannot help the tendril of shame which curls through him at Thorin’s disapproving look. For so long he has depended upon his uncle’s approval for his very survival: it has been his bread and butter and most times was the only goal he strove for. Now Thorin sits across the table from him, implacable and stony and Fili feels like he is a small child once more.

          The only reason he does not throw himself at Thorin’s feet sits beside him, steady where he is wavering, sparking and flaring while he might be guttering out. Kili’s hand is warm beneath his and Fili comforts himself by stroking the knuckles and the lines of veins which stretch to his wrist. He does not dare to chance a look at Kili’s face, but it is not necessary. The press of Kili’s knee against his, the pressure of Kili’s foot at the top of his—these all tell him what he needs to know. Kili will be his rock.

          He does wish, however, that his lover would stop glaring at his uncle as though he desires to tear his throat out.

          Thorin clears his throat and Kili’s foot presses down hard on his, toenails scraping bare skin. Fili convulsively tightens his grip on Kili’s hand before his shoulders straighten. He will not bow before his uncle like a child. Thorin will not take away this, this violent, perfection which he and Kili have carved. It is not his to take.

          It is this fierce determination to keep what is his which leads him to address Thorin. “Uncle, I know you must disapprove but you give me no time to explain—“

          Thorin interrupts him; quiet baritone slicing through every one of Fili’s hastily prepared arguments. “I need no explanation. It is quite clear to me what has happened in the time that I have been away.”

          “If it is that obvious, then you must know what it means,” Fili clutches Kili’s hand so tightly that he can feel the small bones shifting. “I’m aware of all of the ramifications, believe me, but Kili…Uncle, he’s my O—“

          “Stop.” Thorin’s voice cuts Fili off as surely as if his uncle has cut his throat. “Do _not_ say that.”

          The steely look on Thorin’s face, combined with the fire flashing dangerously in his uncle eyes keeps Fili from protesting, though a strangled, “Uncle…” does escape his lips. Thorin glares at him and Fili understands how so many dwarves could be in utter terror of his uncle.

          “Kili can’t be your One,” Thorin finally growls, sending all of Fili’s hopes for an easy resolution spiraling away. But his next words completely shatter Fili’s world.

          “He’s your brother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully another update soonish?


	16. It Was Not Your Fault but Mine and It Was Your Heart on the Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The decision of years ago and its repercussions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AWESOME. Is what all of you guys are. 
> 
> And this is how I repay you. 
> 
> With PAIN.
> 
> Because love hurts, that's why.

Thorin expects the stunned silence which follows his words. He expects Fili to push away from the table, chair toppling over after him, his nephew’s frenzied pacing, like a caged lion. He even expects Fili to carefully right the chair and sit down after growling “Explain” through his teeth.

          What he does not anticipate is for Kili to freeze. If anything, he would have expected the brunette to lunge across the table and grapple him to the floor. He had planned for screams, violence, and a whole-hearted destruction of his small kitchen. However, Kili looks now as though he were imitating a mountain troll facing the sunlight, face ashen and eyes glassy.

          Thorin tears his gaze away from Kili’s grey face to look at Fili’s flushed one. Pain and betrayal are carved into the corners of his eyes and the shaking of the hand, which does not stretch for Kili’s. Thorin wonders why he feels such melancholy at the sight of wood between their hands where once their fingers were tightly entwined. He looks up at both of his nephews, Fili glaring daggers at him and Kili wide-eyed and lost, yet both wordlessly beseeching him for an explanation.

          Where does he begin? The decision which, sixty-five years ago, seemed so simple now seems obtuse and tangled, or perhaps that is just a result of the paths which they have all followed, the roads which have led them here, to this room. It had all seemed clear, in the room still splashed with blood…

          _“They came for the heir of Durin.” Balin’s voice was grave and sad, his eyes gazing deep into the fire. “That was what the orc told us.”_

_“You would trust the word of filth like that?” Dwalin’s voice is a low grumble, the warning in his tone hinting as to what exactly he thinks of the word of orcs. “It was an orc attack. No more.”_

_Thorin’s eyes darted between the two, his trusted advisor and oldest friend. Which course to take? Orcs lied, this much he understood. Twisted creations, nothing which the Valar had ever intended to walk the earth…he would sooner trust Thranduil’s words than that which an orc gave him. But still…it was rare for the dying to lie and the captured orc had said that the heir of Durin was the target of the attack…_

_His life had taught him to be cautious. Had his grandfather practiced the art of patience, perhaps he might still have his head. “They were after the heir of Durin,” Thorin said as he turned to face the small group. His eyes sought out his sister, the whites of her eyes tinged with red from her weeping, face pale and drawn. Still, her dark eyes met his without flinching as he said, “My heir.”_

_Dis did not blink, did not blanch. She held his gaze with all the pride which she had shown in the halls of Erebor. “We will need to leave.” Her quiet voice was enough to silence Dwalin’s snarl. “If they were after the boys then the enemy already knows where we live.”_

_Dis thought like a mother, anxious to protect her young. Thorin thought like a King, knowing how to protect his forces and knowing when sacrifices had to be made. He met Balin’s eyes and felt relieved that someone else had considered this possibility, though the small shake of the white head told him that Balin wasn’t happy with the situation. So be it. Happiness was not Thorin’s ultimate goal. Survival was._

_“How did they find where you lived?” Dis looked toward him, confusion finally marring her impassive face._

_“What does it matter?” she snapped. Undoubtedly she’d recognized his tone, noticed something different in his posture. She reacted defensively, eyes snapping and flashing at him. “They found us, so we’ll leave.”_

_“Aye, they found us here and they will find us again.” Thorin clenched his fist. He did not want to hurt his sister, he did not want to say these things to her, but someone had to and who other than him? It was he who broke the news of their grandfather’s death, of Frerin, slain before the gates of Moria. It was he, hours ago, who had held her while the blood of her husband still clung to her hands. It will be he who will break her heart one more time._

_“What are you suggesting?” Dwalin stood from where he had been leaning against the wall. Thorin braced himself for another fight. Loyal as Dwalin might be, he will fight him on this. Dwalin is a simpler sort of soul—he will not understand the need as Balin does._

_“The enemy has spies all around us, even the birds serve him at times. No matter where we go, he will always hear of the heirs of Durin. But of a dwarf child and his mother? What matter is that to the orcs?”_

_Dwalin nodded but Dis narrowed her eyes. She had caught what his friend had yet to realize, what Balin had already known. “Child? Pray tell me brother, when did one of my sons happen to misplace his brother?”_

_It was a fight to keep his face impassive but Thorin managed, despite the looming threat of Dwalin beside him and the growing anger and fear on his sister’s face. “None except for us know that I have two heirs. If we separate them—“ He was cut off by a horrified gasp from Dis and a furious denial from Dwalin._

_“You cannot!” Dis stood trembling before him and shoved a trembling finger into his chest. “Not even_ you _would be so cruel Thorin!”_

_Thorin hoped that no one saw the flinch which his sister’s words caused, though the wound which she created would continue to fester years later. Dis continued to shout, all thoughts of helping her brother evaporated in face of saving her sons._

_“Fili and Kili have no father left, they will have to rely on each other! How could you even dream of separating them, you who were inseparable from our brother, from_ me?” _Dis’s eyes however, had already accepted the truth, no matter how harsh her words sounded._

_“Thorin…” Dwalin began, but he was quickly silenced by Balin’s hand placed on his wrist. Balin’s eyes were sad, eyes that had already seen too much death and destruction. How many families had Balin seen ripped to shreds?_

_“If Fili lives with me then he will have a veritable army surrounding him to protect him from any attacks. And you and Kili will go, make your way in anonymity. That way if…” And here Thorin’s voice did falter, “if anything should happen to either Fili or myself there will still be a living heir of Durin. The line will continue.”_

_“Are you sure this is the best way?” Balin’s voice was quiet at his side, only concern tinting the edges. “Could not both the boys live in anonymity with their mother?”_

_Regret filled Thorin as he shook his head. “If something were to happen to me then Fili would need to be ready to step forward immediately. He will need to be trained, even as I was in Erebor, and that education will not come without knowledge of his lineage.”_

_“There has to be another way,” Dwalin protested, but even his denials sounded weaker to Thorin’s ears._

_“It will ensure the survival of the line. Kili will be safe as long as none are aware of his lineage. Fili will be taught as my heir, surrounded by trained and true fighters.”_

_“And when Fili seeks his brother, from whom he has been separated?” Dis’ voice was sharp and cruel in its pain._

_His sister’s voice might have been overflowing with its emotion but Thorin kept his steady, his eyes solely on Dis’ eyes, those which were identical to Frerin’s. “Fili has no brother. His family died in an orc raid.”_

_Dis sobbed, empty and broken. “And of Kili?”_

_“Kili’s father is dead. His mother is the only family he has left.”_

_At this tears rolled down Dis’ face and his sister did not bother to try to hide them. Thorin could feel Dwalin’s discontent beside him, feel Balin’s regret but he had to push them aside, push his own pain and self-loathing aside. Kings did not feel regret. Kings did not second-guess themselves. Kings acted._

_“Is this your way of seeking to replace what you lost?”  His sister’s question was carefully calculated to wound him, her Dwarven eyes easily seeking his weakness and mercilessly exploiting it. “By stealing what is mine?”_

_Thorin swiftly turned on his heel and strode away as rage spiked uncontrollably within him. He took one deep breath and then another as he attempted to quell the fires of his sudden wrath. A lingering spatter of blood on the wall was all it took                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        to wipe his emotions clean and clear his mind._

_“I seek only to keep my family safe. I am no thief.” When he turned back to his sister his face was implacable and stern, the look which their grandfather had worn so well._

_Dis practically trembled before him, shaking with the force of her rage and grief. Thorin had danced at her wedding, had whirled her about in the air while she shrieked in delight. Hate sparkles in those dark eyes now, malicious and deep, as deep as the pools in the lost kingdom of Moria._

_“May Mahal forgive you for what you do,” she whispered._

_Those were the last words she ever said to him._

         

          “I don’t believe you.” Kili’s voice sounds flat and emotionless but underneath the rough exterior Thorin can hear just the hint of a wobble. “Come up with a better lie.”

          Though Thorin bristles at being called a liar he instinctively knows, through years of dealing with Dis’ unpredictable temper, that retaliating to the insult will gain him no ground. Instead he searches deep within the pockets of his coat before he finds what he seeks. He pushes the locket as well as the hair-clip towards Kili. The dark eyes flick down to take in both of them and Thorin carefully watches the way the brunette’s face blanches when he sees the design on the silver hair-clip. It was a twin to Dis’ and judging from the look on Kili’s face he’s seen its mate before.

          “Open it,” Thorin insists when Kili’s shaking fingers stray towards the locket. Underneath his and Fili’s intense scrutiny Kili snaps open the seal. He inhales sharply and the last of the color fades from his face as he looks at the miniature sketch which has been housed there for so long—the sketch of Dis on her wedding day, when she was all smiles and the future had looked so bright…Kili hastily snaps the locket shut and pushes it back towards Thorin as though it might cause him serious harm.

          “My father…he was a craftsman,” Kili tries, though Thorin thinks that he’s trying to convince himself now. “He died in the pilgrimage after the dragon came…”

          “Your father was one of the finest smiths and warriors in Erebor,” Thorin corrects. He really is trying to be gentle but from Kili’s flinch his words obviously hurt. “He carried your mother out of the city and helped usher our people to safety.”

          “You told me…you told me that they were slain by orcs…” Fili’s pain is harder for Thorin to face; he has known the boy his whole life. The agony on his golden nephew’s face twists the jagged knife of Thorin’s self-loathing that much deeper. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

          Here, in the face of their confusion and anger, his answer seems pathetically laughable. “It was for your safety.”

          “You _lied_ to me!” Fili slams his fist against the table and though Thorin has always suspected that his heir has a formidable temper he has never seen it erupt until now. “All my life you’ve been lying!”

          “Fili, it was to protect you,” Thorin widens his gaze to take in Kili, “to protect the both of you.”

          “It was to protect your fucking line, not for us,” Kili spits. Thorin almost drags him up by the ear for cursing in his presence but decides against it. After everything he’s done to Kili, he can at least ignore foul language. “If you’d actually wanted to protect us you wouldn’t have forced my mother to deceive me my whole life, would have let me live where I was wanted…” Kili clacks his teeth together but Thorin can tell that there is more, much more that the darker sister-son wants to say. It might make him a coward but he’s grateful that Kili has spared him for the moment. In the face of Fili’s anguish and rage he’s not sure if he could take Kili’s hurt…Kili, whose eyes look so much like Dis’ as they filled with tears…

          “It was for you,” Thorin spits, the truth in Kili’s words striking close to his heart. “I never thought that events would conspire this way, never suspected that…” He cannot bring himself to say it, cannot face the truth which so blatantly greeted him when he pushed open the door—the fact that in his absence, his nephews courted, bedded…Fili would have called Kili his One, of that he is sure. The way they looked at each other, their coordinated movements—Dis and Nain had moved like that, always flowing through each other’s space easily, anticipating the other’s every thought and reaction.

          “You never suspected what?” Fili stands again, attempting to enforce control. Blunt fingernails grip the edge of the table. “Never suspected that I would take a male for…for my lover, never suspected…” Fili’s voice breaks as he looks at Thorin and then at Kili. Without another word he sprints from the cottage, slamming the door behind him. The clatter of wood smashing together makes Thorin wince.

          Thorin can _feel_ Kili straining after Fili, the bond still existent and strong between the two. The yearning is written plain on Kili’s face as he unconsciously leans towards the door, but glittering dark eyes are still fixed on Thorin.

          “Go after him,” Thorin mumbles. He cannot bring himself to fight with this nephew, this dark-haired son of Durin who is so foreign yet so familiar. There will be time later, painful, excruciating amounts of time, to fully sever the bond between the two. But for now… “He needs you.”

          “We need each other,” Kili spits. His lip curls as he looks at Thorin and in the face of this rejection Thorin has never felt so defeated, not even when Azog threw the head of his grandfather at his feet.

          “I’m sorry,” Thorin whispers, and for a moment he is not King Under the Mountain, not the ruler of a lost people, not the foundation upon which a broken nation rests—he is nothing but a man who has failed his family. “I’m sorry.”

          He dares to look into Kili’s eyes—does he hope for forgiveness? There is none. Instead Kili stares at him, lips curling into a disgusted snarl. His nephew looks like he doesn’t know whether to pity or revile him and either makes Thorin cringe. Finally Kili hisses deep in his throat, fists clenching at his sides as he speaks his evaluation of Thorin Oakenshield.

          “Fuck you.”

          The quiet sound of Kili carefully closing the door behind him echoes through the whole cottage.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

                   

         

          Fili has long since disappeared when Kili exits the cottage but the archer can track his footprints easily enough. More than that, he somehow knows to where Fili will flee. Fili would want some place private, personal, secure—somewhere that he thought no one could find him. He starts to run, ignoring the stabs of pain which come from rocks sticking into his bare feet.

          The coolness of the grass is a relief after the harsh cobblestones. The forest swallows up any noise, leaving the world in a quiet hush. Kili delicately pads forward, feet headed towards a familiar destination.

          He’d known Fili would come to this place, the small clearing in the woods where they’d shared their first kiss. It seems like eons ago, those few short weeks passing by in the blink of an eye. Kili can still see the ring of scorched earth where their campfire burned.

          He spies the figure of Fili, his lover ( _brother)_ , the other half of his heart and steps forward, out of the safe confines of the trees. Fili faces away from him and even from a distance the shaking of his shoulders is clearly visible. Kili sees Fili draw back his arm but it takes him too long to realize what the swordsman intends to do. By then it is too late and Fili’s fist has already connected with the rough bark of the tree trunk in front of him.

          “Fili!” Kili bounds forward and catches Fili’s elbow in both hands before Fili can repeat the action. Already Kili can see torn skin on his knuckles, thin rivers of blood cascading across the back of his hand. Worse, he can see the faint stain appear through the thin cloth of Fili’s shirt, swiftly spreading across the sleeve.

          “You’ve torn open your wound, we’ll have to go see Oin,” Kili babbles, keeping his hands wrapped around Fili’s upper arm as he looks him in the face.

          Fili whirls around, braids swinging haphazardly around his face. In the confusion and chaos of the morning he hasn’t had time to redo them and they are lumpy and disheveled. It gives Fili a wild appearance which is not improved by the whine which escapes Fili’s clenched teeth.

          _“Kili,_ ” he whispers and Fili buries his face into his shoulder. Kili’s arms clench tightly around broad shoulders, pulling Fili closer, always closer. If he could he would pull them so tightly together that he wouldn’t be able to tell where he ended and Fili began. Kili has just enough time to bury the tip of his nose into the tawny hair, inhale the scent of leather and soap before Fili pulls away from him.

          Kili reaches out for him, a broken whimper burbling out from his lips. “Fili, don’t,” he pleads.

          Fili shakes his head, eyes wide and lost. “Kili… _gods,_ Kili…” Want and need are plain on his face and despite his control, Fili’s hand reaches out. Kili strains forward, his whole being screaming for contact with Fili. Their fingertips just barely brush before Fili stumbles backwards, wrapping his arms around his midsection as he doubles over.

          _“Kili,_ ” and the sound of his name from Fili’s lips at least leaves Kili in no doubt that the elder feels exactly what he does—a horrid ripping sensation, as though he is being torn apart from the inside. It’s as though someone has crawled inside his chest and is tearing little bits of him away, except the pain goes deeper than just physical, it attacks him whole, until there is nothing left of Kili, nothing left except the devastated keening of his name falling from Fili’s lips.

          “Fili, don’t,” Kili repeats again. He digs his fingernails into the flesh of his forearm until they draw blood, desperate for some form of an anchor to hold him down. “Please don’t…”

          All of Kili’s resolve fades, all of his pride vanishes and he throws himself on the ground, clutching at Fili. His arms wrap around Fili’s thighs, his face presses into the muscles of the swordsman’s stomach as he pleads for Fili not to do what he knows he must, not to do what Kili cannot.

          “Fili please, it’s not true _(it is)_ , Thorin was lying _(he wasn’t),_ it doesn’t matter _(it does)_ , I love you _(I love you please don’t leave me I love you don’t abandon me I love you what will I do when your face isn’t next to me in the morning I love you I love you I can’t imagine life without you I love you I need you you are my life you are my breath you are me)_ , Fili, _don’t, please...”_

          “Kili…”Kili chances a look upwards to Fili’s face as fingers wind themselves in his hair. A tear splashes down on his face. The grief on Fili’s face tells Kili everything that he needs to know and Kili buries his face into Fili’s stomach and he sobs unrestrainedly against the fabric, sobs as he has not since he was a child. Fili’s hands smooth his hair, fingers rub circles into his back and Kili is grateful for this, this last kindness, this last moment when Fili is _his_.

          Fili holds him until his tears subside, hours or minutes later, when all Kili can manage are broken hiccups and gasps.   

          He knew, from the moment that Thorin uttered those damning words that it was over. He’d felt Fili draw away from him even then. Kili might be indifferent to the morals of dwarven society, but it does not mean that he’s ignorant to them: brothers do not lie together. Brothers do not kiss. Brothers do not _love—_ at least not the passionate, painful, soul-deep connection which for him resonates with Fili, only with Fili. Fili is not his One—not anymore.

          But how does he stop? How does he cut his own heart out? How does he look at Fili, see his smile, notice the way that he rolls the left bead of his moustache between his fingers when he thinks—how is it possible for Fili and him to be on the same earth and not be in each other’s arms?

          The moments tick on and Fili starts to pull away. Kili fists the fabric of Fili’s shirt in his hands but Fili gently tugs it free. He stares at Fili, pleading without words, hoping beyond hope that Fili will relent.

          And maybe there’s something wrong with him, Kili realizes as he finally stands on legs which feel too wobbly to hold him, because even after he recognizes something of himself in the curve of Fili’s lips, all he wants to do is kiss them. And maybe that same something is wrong with Fili, because when Kili jumps forward, twists his fingers in golden hair and crushes their lips together, Fili kisses him back, moves his mouth against Kili’s like nothing’s changed between them, like everything is _perfect…_

          Except that it is not. All too soon Fili stiffens against him and jerks away. And even though Kili reads the desire and the love raging within his eyes, there is also a hint of horror—though at what? Himself? Kili? Their circumstances? Kili longs for yesterday’s dawn when he woke up to realize that Fili had snatched his pillow away from him and he had a terrible crick in his neck as a result.

          “Kili, we can’t…” Fili tries, except he’s obviously forgotten that Kili can read him like an open book. Fili still _wants_.

          “Why not?” Kili snaps, scrubbing at his tear-stained face. “Because everyone says it’s wrong? Fuck them, what do they know?”

          “It _is_ wrong. Kili…we’re brothers, we can’t…” Fili straightens his shoulders. “It’s sick.”

          His words hit Kili like a punch to the solar plexus and for a moment he can’t do anything but gasp in the face of such callousness. When he finally does regain his bearings his voice sounds harsher and crueler than he would like. “Was it sick last night when you were fucking me? Or how about when you sucked me off? I recall that you liked it quite a lot.” Fili flinches and Kili immediately feels guilty. He tries for a different, gentler tactic. “Just because your uncle said something doesn’t make it true. What do you _feel?”_

          Fili shudders at his words, eyes falling closed for a moment before he looks back at Kili. “It doesn’t matter what I feel—“

          “Coward.” Kili spits the word out like a piece of rotten fruit. Fili’s head snaps towards him, eyes instantly narrowing in rage.

          “What did you say?” The blonde’s voice is low, deadly and maybe Kili should stop but he’s too far gone in the dizzying rush of his own anger and loss.

          “Coward,” Kili snarls again, fully prepared for the hand which fists itself in the fabric of his shirt. Fili shakes him once, but it’s hard enough to send Kili’s head lolling.

          “How dare you?” Fili hisses furiously, storm blue eyes glaring at him. “How, how _dare…_ ”

          “Because you won’t take what’s yours,” Kili whispers. “Because you’re so damn concerned with what everyone else _thinks,_ you always have been…you’re willing to throw this away.”

          Fili releases him so suddenly that Kili stumbles backwards for a few paces before he regains his balance. He’s barely standing upright before Fili is on him, roaring in his face. “You think that I want to? You think that I… _Aule_ Kili, you think this is easy for me?” Fili’s hand twitches towards him but the blonde restrains himself at the last moment. “You… _gods_ I love you…but it’s _wrong_ and it shouldn’t be…and I don’t want this, of course I don’t but I have to, for both of us…”

          “What about what I want?” Kili hisses back, fury making spittle fly from his mouth along with his words. “What if all I want is you?”

          “It’s not like I’m going anywhere,” Fili laughs shakily. “You’ll see me everyday…”

          “Fuck you,” Kili spits and he slams his fist into his hip in frustration. “I don’t want that. You know that, damn you. I want _us_ Fili; want last night and the nights before…I want you, _azyungel.”_

          “Don’t,” Fili says and his voice quavers. “Kili, please don’t. It can’t be. Neither of us…we can’t.”

          “We can,” Kili impetuously insists.

          “When I first saw you…I thought…I thought…” Fili looks at him and Kili almost feels pity for him, so lost and desperate. “But I was wrong, don’t you see? It was because we were brothers…that’s why…That’s why I thought that I recognized you, why I felt that I’d found something that was missing…we were brothers.”

          “Keep saying that.” Kili’s voice sounds gentler than he thought it would. “Maybe if you repeat it enough you’ll convince yourself, but you’ll never convince me. I _love_ you Fili and it might not mean anything to you but it means everything to me. Always will.”

          “Kili don’t…don’t make this any harder than it has to be, please.”

          “Fuck you,” Kili spits for the third time that day and in this moment he honestly could slap Fili. “Hurt like I hurt.”

          “You don’t think that I do?” Anger sharpens Fili’s tone into a razor and grief makes the words cut deep. “You don’t think that I feel exactly the same? I’m saying to stop wishing for something that we can’t have, no matter how much we want it!”

          “It’s not fair,” Kili stubbornly insists, even though he’s known from an early age that life is never fair and that he will very rarely get what he wants. When he’d met Fili, he’d finally thought that all of his deprivations were finally being balanced out on some great cosmic scale and it would have been worth it—he would have undergone torture and beatings, starvation and the worst sort of pain if it had meant that he could have gotten to wake up next to Fili.

          “I know,” Fili says.

          “I love you,” Kili repeats, trying one last time because if he does not try then what good is he?

          “I know,” Fili whispers. Their gazes meet and hold and despite the burning of oncoming tears Kili does not look away, does not blink because perhaps Fili will relent, will falter and come rushing back—

          With the low moan of a wounded animal, Fili turns and begins the long walk back to Ered Luin alone. Kili watches him leave, each limping step taking him further away, to the point where he is untouchable. A howl forms in his chest and rises to his throat where it stays, choked down by despair before it could even reach fruition.

          Not once does Fili look back.


	17. If I Could Just Fall Back into My Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life goes on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm still not quite happy with this chapter but I honestly can't slave over it any more. 
> 
> Blame my perfectionist tendencies for the extreme delay...I just wanted to give you all the best!
> 
> Thanks to all!

 

          When Kili finally drags himself back into town the sun is just beginning to sink underneath the horizon. He limps down the cobblestone streets, ignoring the confused and wondering looks he gets as he fixes his eyes on Bofur’s tavern in the distance. He has to make it there. Once he’s there he can barricade himself behind a locked door and never emerge.

          He can’t leave. He thought about it, as he crumpled on the forest floor, fingers tearing at the small shoots of grass as harsh sobs wracked his body. He thought about escaping, running until he was firmly back in his mother’s embrace, running back to where he never should have left. He can’t do it. The second he thinks about separating himself from Fili, bright pain blazes through his body and a thin howl escapes through his clenched teeth. He can’t bear to be parted from Fili, not yet…not when the faint hope still exists that maybe Fili will relent, maybe he will falter, maybe he will return, all golden smile and bright warmth…He cannot leave while he still harbors that impossible dream. Besides, no matter where he runs, he will always hear those damning words.

          _He’s your brother._

          He finally reaches Bofur’s but an unpleasant surprise awaits him just outside the door. Fili’s uncle, Thorin, stands beside the door, dour and ramrod straight, his arms folded as he looks out at the world from underneath hawklike eyebrows. Kili freezes before he glares, his lips curling back from his teeth as Thorin gazes severely at him.

          “And where do you think you’re going?” Thorin asks, shifting ever so slightly to block the door.

          “I live there,” Kili answers, as he stabs his finger towards the tavern. He tries not to remember that it’s been perhaps a week since he and Fili actually slept in his room at the tavern, too drunk to do anything but tumble into his bed and paw at each other while choking on their laughter.

          “No nephew of mine will live above a tavern like a traveling peddler,” Thorin bluntly rebuts. “You’re coming with me.”

          “No.”

          From the nonplussed look on Thorin’s face he’s not accustomed to defiance. “Pardon?” he asks, and the faint flush which touches his cheeks is so reminiscent of Fili that it makes Kili’s very bones ache.

          “I’ll be damned if I go with you,” Kili sneers. He rashly tries to push past Thorin, only to have the fabric of his shirt fisted in a large hand.

          “We’re going,” and there’s no room for argument in those steely blue eyes. Nor does the tight grip loosen as Thorin drags him down the street. Open stares follow them but Thorin seems immune to them all and Kili’s too concerned with shuffling his feet swiftly enough to keep up with Thorin’s long strides. He does try to dig his heels in when Thorin approaches the cottage, the small structure which is linked in Kili’s mind with _Fili_ , and this idiot must be insane if he thinks that Kili’s going to willingly set foot in there, not after everything’s that happened…

          “No,” Kili snarls and he finally tries to twist free. Thorin yanks him forward and Kili jerks away—he’ll destroy this shirt if it means that he can escape but somehow the tall dwarf moves around behind him and that unrelenting grip presses on the back of his neck, propelling him forward.

          “Kili please.” The deep voice rumbles behind him and Kili tries to ignore it as his feet inch forward, moved by the steady pressure behind him. “I know you don’t wish to acknowledge it but we’re family. I wouldn’t have you in exile.”

          “What do you call the last sixty five years?” Kili growls as they draw closer and closer towards the door. He doesn’t want to cross that threshold, he’s terrified of what he’ll find when he enters. “I don’t _want to,_ ” he grunts as Thorin clamps his arm around his shoulders and twists open the knob.

          “You shouldn’t be forced to rent a room,” Thorin answers as they enter. “It’s not befitting of an Heir of Durin.”

          And that’s the whole crux of the situation, Kili realizes as Thorin propels him forward into the cottage where he’s spent the majority of his nights for the past month. It’s not about family or guilt—it’s about the appearance of the line, and Kili wonders at the sudden surge of disappointment which flows through his body.

          Everything fades when he sees Fili huddled in an armchair.

          Stricken blue eyes look straight through him and Fili’s pipe falls from his fingers to clatter to the floor. The swordsman’s face pales as he takes in the sight of Kili, pinned to Thorin’s side like a small child. The golden hair is still untamed and Fili’s chest heaves with exertion—it has to be that, it cannot be emotion. Kili’s heart thunders in his chest and all defiance evaporates, leaving him numb and shaken.

          “My nephews will live underneath my roof,” Thorin rumbles by way of explanation before they’re shuffling past Fili towards the stairs. The tight grasp does not loosen except on the stairs, where Thorin pushes him forward. Kili complies. It’s all he can do to pick his feet up high enough to climb up the stairs. Thorin says something to him but the words wash over Kili as a door opens, revealing his meager possessions already present.

          He steps in the room and slams the door behind him, unsure if Thorin’s still talking. On reflex he slides the lock home and finds a sick satisfaction in the knowledge that no one can reach him now. The bed’s obviously not seen much use—the mattress has practically no give as Kili lets his suddenly limp body fall forward. His eyes stare sightlessly forward as he curls into himself on the bed, wishing for something, anything, except the all-encompassing emptiness which slowly swallows him whole.

          He wonders if Thorin is a sadist. Having to live in this cottage, with the constant reminders of Fili, of how they would curl together in front of the fire at nights, having to stay in a room that’s right next to Fili’s…He can practically _smell_ Fili in the very air and he knows that at night he’ll be able to hear his breathing deepen into sleep…

          It’s too much. Kili finally whimpers as he clenches his fists and brings his knees up to touch his chest. He’s not strong enough to survive this. His breathing quickens as he imagines how his life’s going to be from now on—having to watch Fili, never touching, _always, always_ wanting…

          With a broken sob Kili wraps his cloak around himself and hastily fastens it. His boots are next. Grief shakes his body and he thinks that he might be sick as he thinks of having to spend every moment of his life by Fili’s side and never be allowed to touch the sheer perfection which he grasped for such a brief moment.

          Too much. The window easily slides open and it’s child’s play for him to creep along the roof before clambering into the tree which grows alongside the cottage. His feet hit the ground and Kili darts a glance around just in case someone was observing his escape. He doesn’t catch any movements and he strides quickly down the street before either Fili or Thorin chances a look out of the window.

          He’s not quite sure where he intended to go but his feet take him to stand outside of Bofur’s. Kili contemplates his choices before he decides that the sweet oblivion of drunkenness sounds perfect. He pushes open the door and strides to the bar with purposeful steps. Before he can reach his destination however, a hand pulls on his elbow.

          “I’m sorry lad,” Bofur apologizes, his large brown eyes wide and guilty. “It was just…Thorin insisted and you can’t exactly refuse him.” This time there’s a hint of a question floating in the brown depths. Thorin must not have told him the _why_ yet.

          “It’s fine,” Kili sighs, because the last thing he wants to talk about is Thorin. He wants to drink until he can’t feel, drink until he can’t remember who he is, who he thought he was, or who he was supposed to be. He wants to forget exactly how Fili’s lips feel on his skin, he wants to forget how the tiny lines at the corners of Fili’s eyes crinkle when he smiles—he wants to drink until he becomes something else or perhaps nothing at all.

          Bofur still looks like he’s going to apologize and Kili really can’t swallow any misery but his own. “Make it up to me,” he mumbles, gesturing towards the huge barrels behind the bar. “Get me stinking drunk.”

          Bofur’s eyes flicker with doubt but he must be feeling guiltier than Kili expected, because he proceeds to do exactly that. The winged hat frequently visits his stool until Kili’s well past the point of inebriation. It’s only by some miracle of gravity that he manages to remain upright on his seat and still he keeps on drinking because he can still _feel_ and he doesn’t want to, he wants to be _empty_ , he wants to be _numb_ and he’s not there yet, so he keeps drinking.

          “More,” he slurs, or hopefully something close to it, and yet another foaming tankard appears in front of him. It takes a few tries but finally he grips the handle and manages to upend the tankard. Some of the ale goes into his mouth—half of it ends up spilled on the floor but he doesn’t really care.

          The sight of a large hand, decorated with knuckle-dusters and tattoos does nothing to stop Kili. It’s only when the tankard is firmly removed from his loose grip that Kili even bothers to glance beside him. One of the largest Dwarves he’s ever seen surveys him. Kili manages what he hopes is a menacing glare, though he doubts that the bald dwarf will be very terrified of him—those tattoos over his scalp speak of countless battles and he’s burly enough to be twice as broad as Kili.

          “Piss off,” Kili enunciates, because he _needs_ this, damn it, and who the fuck is this dwarf to stop him? Through his bleary eyes he can see the other dwarf’s eyes widen in surprise and his fists clench in response.

          “I think you’ve had enough now lad,” and really, who the _fuck_ is he to decide that? Kili decides that he hates him, because he hasn’t had enough. He can still _feel,_ he can still remember Fili’s expression last night as he moved within him, that precious smile on his face, like he thought that Kili was worth all the gems in the earth. He still _hurts,_ still _loves_ and it’s horrible and he doesn’t want to, he just wants _Fili,_ but that’s not going to happen because they’re brothers, and he doesn’t want it…

          “Fuck off,” Kili finally snarls and despair and anger make him swipe a hand at the tattooed dwarf beside him.

          His wrist is easily pinned to the surface of the bar—in fact that tight grip is the only reason he doesn’t topple over when he tries to clamber off of his stool. The world spins around him but all Kili wants is everything to _stop_ and the surest way he knows how to achieve that is to punish the one preventing him from reaching oblivion—He swings his free hand in a blind arc and weakly struggles when it too is seized in a punishingly tight grip.

          He thinks that he might be spun around, both wrists pinned behind his back. He bucks and curses as pointless tears spring to his eyes. “No, damn you,” he cries—Fili yawning just as he wakes—Fili’s hair in the morning light as he walked away—“Damn you, I need this…”

          “Easy lad,” that deep voice growls in his ear. “You’ll be fine.”

          “Fuck you,” Kili chokes, because what does this idiot know? He won’t be fine—Fili spitting out _It’s sick_ , Fili holding him as _love you_ spills from his lips, _He’s your brother_ —A wail bubbles in his throat as he weakly thrashes back and forth—He wants to run and never stop, he wants to crawl into Fili’s bed and beg for forgiveness, he wants to disappear—Strong fingers press near the base of his skull and red tints the edges of Kili’s vision.

          “You’ll be fine lad,” the dwarf tells him again and with a strangled sob Kili tumbles into blackness.

 -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

          Fili hasn’t spoken since morning. He’d returned to the cottage and Thorin had selfishly waited for Fili to speak to him but his blonde nephew had shoved past him without a word. Somehow Fili had ended up at the chopping block and had proceeded to split wood for hours. Each hit of the ax against dull wood had been like a blow to Thorin, especially when the sound began to be accompanied by Fili’s ragged sobs for breath. It had been even worse when Fili had dragged himself inside, the exhaustion of his body and anguish of his mind both abundantly clear. Blisters have already burst open and bled on Fili’s hands—Thorin can see the wounds from his chair as he watches Fili methodically sharpen each of his blades.

          Worry gnaws at Thorin’s chest as he stares at Fili, who gazes dully at his swords as he mindlessly passes the whetstone over the metal. He’s never seen his nephew like this—Fili’s normally reserved but after this morning it’s like a spark’s been gutted. Gone is the confident, poised dwarf of before—instead he shares his sitting room with a shell. Fili hadn’t even eaten that evening and Kili…Thorin had knocked on the door and announced that there was food but there had been no answer. He wonders how he’s supposed to fix this horrific tangle of problems. He wonders if Fili will ever speak to him again.

          The booming knock sounds throughout the cabin and Thorin latches onto the sound like a drowning man with a raft. He wrenches open the door only to take a step backwards. Dwalin stands in his doorway, which isn’t all that unusual of an occurrence. But held in his arms…

          Thorin starts at the low moan from which comes from behind him before Fili rushes past him. His heir focuses solely on Kili, his darker nephew dangling limply from his oldest friend’s grasp.

          “I think this belongs to you,” Dwalin says, his tone carefully blank as he takes a step in the house. Fili doesn’t take his eyes away from Kili for a second and Thorin carefully scrutinizes how his shaking hand stretches out towards Kili’s slack face and softly brushes over his hair. Fili’s shoulders curl defensively towards the unconscious youth as he stays close to Kili, even as Dwalin continues walking.

          “How did you know?” Thorin asks as he finally looks at Dwalin.

          “You looked almost the same when you were his age,” Dwalin shrugs his shoulders. “Besides, he’s got his mother’s eyes.” Thorin nods shortly.

          “Is he hurt?” Fili finally asks, his voice quavering from disuse before it evens out.

          “Just piss drunk,” Dwalin answers. “Found him in the tavern too drunk to stand upright…still tried to start a fight with me.” Thorin inspects Kili’s face. Durin’s beard, but he looks young without the hateful glare twisting his features. “He’ll feel like shite in the morning but no lasting harm done.”

          “Put him back in his room.” Thorin finally finds his voice. “Though I’m interested as to how he got out without my knowledge.”

          “The window,” Fili quietly answers. A flicker of hope passes through Thorin. At least Fili acknowledges his presence, though his heir still studiously faces away from him. “Mr. Dwalin, I can take him…”

          “That won’t be necessary,” Thorin swiftly interrupts as Fili’s arms snap back to his sides from where they had been reaching out to take Kili from Dwalin. He dislikes the defeated slump to Fili’s shoulders, though he likes Dwalin’s suddenly shrewd stare even less. “Just put him upstairs and for Durin’s sake, put a bucket next to him.” From what he remembers of ale-sickness, his brunette nephew will wake up and want to retch everything out of his stomach.

          Difficulty arises when it becomes apparent that Kili locked the door behind him, thus making it impossible to open from the outside. Thorin glares at his unconscious nephew as he shakes the doorknob before he finally winces and forces the door open with one good shove. He makes note to himself that the lock needs to be removed from Kili’s door. Dwalin easily deposits Kili on his bed, rolling the slender dwarf on his side.

          “Fili,” Thorin calls once he realizes that his nephew isn’t following him. He turns back to look—Fili’s bent over the bed removing Kili’s boots and the easy way which his heir’s fingers move over the clasps and buckles makes Thorin’s stomach twist. Dwalin’s stare burns on his back once more and he knows that hard questions will follow but he doesn’t care at the moment. Right now, he only cares about getting Fili, with his tortured eyes and inappropriate knowledge of Kili’s clothes, out of that room. It seems needlessly cruel to prolong severing the bond between the two—the sooner the better and hopefully both of his nephews will recover. The hope seems flat, even to his own mind and Thorin forcefully pushes that thought aside.

          Fili finally faces him and Thorin inwardly blanches to see the dispassionate anger within the blue depths—almost as if Fili cannot muster the energy to be fully furious. It is unnerving and Thorin finds himself a little relieved when Fili pushes past him. The door to Fili’s room shuts with a solid thud and Thorin finally lets out a breath he wasn’t fully aware he was holding.

          “What in Durin’s name is going on?” Dwalin asks him. Thorin inhales once, holds it, before letting his breath out in a low hiss.

          “Find Gloin, Oin, and Bofur,” he finally orders. Distant kinsfolk all of them, but more importantly, he knows that Kili had been staying at Bofur’s place and that Gloin had at least some knowledge of their relationship. He has questions which demand to be answered and worries which need to be addressed as soon as possible. “Bring Balin as well. We need to talk.”

 

 -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

          The lurching and churning in his stomach wakes Kili. Without actually regaining full consciousness he quickly shuffles so that his head hangs over the edge of the bed—he really doesn’t relish cleaning vomit out of the sheets. By luck his groping hands come into contact with the rough wood grain of a bucket, just before he coughs and loses the contents of his stomach.

          He wipes the back of a shaky hand across his mouth once he finishes, trying to blink the lingering headache away. It persists and Kili finally gives up the struggle. His sharp eyes quickly adjust to the darkness of the room and his heart sinks when he recognizes the placement of the meager furniture within. _Of course_ he would be brought back to Thorin’s house.

          The sour taste of ale-drenched vomit still hangs heavy in his mouth and he can’t find any form of water to wash it away with. Kili pushes himself up from the bed, still swaying somewhat—even after vomiting what felt like an entire sea he’s still fairly drunk—and eventually makes his way to the door. He notes, with faint curiosity, that his boots have been taken off, and he wonders who did it. Unbidden, the memory of Fili, kneeling on his bed and laughing as he fumbled with the buckles, rises to the forefront of his mind, and he moans lowly as pain lances through him.

          Water. He needs water. It’s a miracle that he doesn’t break his own neck as he stumbles down the stairs, missing some steps and sliding down others. He reaches the landing and pauses when he hears the low rumble of voices coming from the sitting room. Overcome with the naïve curiosity of the drunk, Kili creeps closer and strains his hearing.

          “—Durin’s beard, you’re sure?” Kili recognizes Gloin’s gruff deep voice, even though the smith makes an effort to keep his voice down. “There’s no way you’re mistaken?”

          “Even if I didn’t recognize a member of my own line, there are other clues.” Thorin’s deep baritone sounds and Kili feels the surge of immediate resentment. “He recognized a hairclip of Dis’ as well as her portrait. There’s no doubt in my mind.”

          “Mahal bless me.” Bofur’s voice. “We’d no idea…all this time he’s been raised elsewhere?”

          “Yes.” Thorin’s voice is clipped and to the point. “It was meant to secure the safety of the line.”

          Again that tired old line. Kili rolls his eyes but still listens. “Aule, Thorin…” Gloin speaks again and this time there is a hint of disbelieving horror in his voice. “The lads…they…”

          “I know,” Thorin bites out and Kili feels as though he might be sick again. “How…how common is that knowledge?”

          “Well…” From the hesitation in his voice, Kili can imagine that Bofur’s squirming. “They didn’t make much of a secret of it, did they? And we…well, I…Durin’s beard, it was good to see the lad laughing. None of us…there was no reason to…” Bofur trails off. “What’s going to happen to him?”

          “Obviously, there was no way that either one of them could have known,” an unfamiliar voice remarks. Had Kili heard it under any other circumstances he would have thought that the speaker sounded kind and wise. Now his voice just sounds like the judgment of the ages.

          “Just tell the bloody truth.” Kili stiffens as he recognizes that voice—it was the voice of the burly, tattooed dwarf at the bar. He’d heard it just before he passed out—what in Mahal’s name was he doing here? “No reason for anyone to get their knickers in a twist is there?”

          “I don’t think it will be that simple,” the wise, old voice said. “There will be talk…gossip…”

          “And that will be dealt with accordingly.” Thorin’s voice sounds angry. “There was never anything improper between the two.”

          The blatant lie strikes deep into an already festering wound and before he knows what he’s doing Kili totters into the room, a twisted smile on his face. “Is that what you’re going to tell them all?” he asks, even as he places his hand on the doorframe to keep himself from swaying. “That we were just kissing like brothers?”

          “Kili, lad…” It’s Gloin who speaks but Kili only has eyes for Thorin.

          “Yes,” Thorin answers him simply. It takes Kili aback for a moment before he retaliates.

          “Well, good luck with that,” Kili sneers, swinging a wild hand to encompass the whole world. He stumbles but recovers his balance just in time. “Too bad that this whole damn town knows that we were fucking like rabbits.”

          The shock on Oin’s face is priceless, though Kili’s satisfaction is short-lived when he hears the low, angry roar from Thorin.

          “Keep your idiotic mouth shut,” his supposed uncle growls as he rises from his seat and looms over Kili—how did Kili forget how bloody _tall_ Thorin was? “Do you care nothing for the disgrace and loathing of others?”

          “Not really no,” Kili glibly answers, because he’s had nothing but disgrace and loathing his whole life.

          “Well Fili does.” Thorin’s words land in fertile territory and Kili gapes at him. “I _do not care_ if you think the whole of the Blue Mountains knows about your…involvement, you will _not_ flaunt it. I am King Under the Mountain and my word is law—so long as you are introduced as a lost Heir of Durin there will be little more than whispers. I would like to tell you that our people are a kind and understanding lot but they are not. They will not understand—even with my words, there will be many who struggle, but they will swallow their King’s explanation. If you gainsay my word however…”Thorin’s managed to keep a stern face for the majority of his speech but here his face slips and Kili sees a hint of true fear. “As I said before, they will not understand. At best there will be ridicule. At worst…”

          “I can handle myself,” Kili blusters, even though right now he can barely keep himself upright.

          “But what of Fili? Do you think that he could withstand the scorn of those he has to see daily, look at someone in the eye when they have a foul opinion of him? What if a mad individual decides that Mahal’s law has been broken and they seek to take vengeance out on Fili? Could you live with yourself then?”

          It’s a dirty trick but it works and Kili hates Thorin for it. His shoulders slump in defeat as Thorin straightens. Thorin opens his mouth and Kili immediately bristles at the thought of anything else his elder could say but they’re both interrupted by a sharp scream. Thorin stiffens but Kili immediately lurches backward, already stumbling towards the stairs. He recognizes that scream and even though he has to pretend like he never wanted Fili, never _loved_ Fili, no one on this earth can ever stop him from going to Fili when he screams.

          The stairs still prove an obstacle as Kili half crawls, half falls up them but he swiftly scales them regardless of obstacles. Once upstairs he easily makes his way to Fili’s room, fumbling with the doorknob before falling into Fili’s room.

          Kili recognizes exactly what ails Fili—he’s seen it before several times. The cords in Fili’s neck stand out as his face contorts. His body twists and his fingers claw at the sheets. A bead of sweat trickles down his face to disappear in his beard as Fili opens his mouth and starts to wail.

          Without thinking, Kili sits on Fili’s bed and shakes him. Fili’s eyes fly open as he shoots upright and Kili cringes at the naked fear in the azure depths. The terror in Fili’s eyes fades only slightly before the blonde buries his face in his hand and presses his body against Kili’s. Kili stiffens but Fili doesn’t seem to notice as dry sobs shake his body. Kili swallows hard as his arms wind around Fili and he tries to ignore how _good_ it feels to hold Fili in his arms.

          Fili gasps deeply several times before he finally speaks. “I remember,” he begins, still trembling violently. Kili doesn’t know what he’s talking about until Fili clarifies, “Father…I remember how it all happened…”

          Kili sucks in a deep breath. His heart feels like it freezes for a moment before it starts beating again, twice as fast as normal. He tries to speak but his tongue cleaves to the roof of his desert dry mouth.

          “Orcs attacked the village,” Fili rasps and Kili thinks that his chest might burst when Fili’s hand grasps his wrist. “Father…he went out to meet them.”

          Maybe it’s just the aftereffects of the alcohol but Kili thinks that he might pass out. He tightens his grip on Fili and inwardly squirms as he recalls Thorin’s words— _seek to take vengeance on Fili…_ He doesn’t want to hear this, he wants to beg Fili to stop…

          “It wasn’t enough. He couldn’t stop them. They…they came in…Mother and Father both tried to hold them off. Mother gave you to me…”

          “Fili…” Kili can barely speak and he struggles just to remember how to breathe. He doesn’t want to hear this, he doesn’t want yet another reminder of what’s been shoved in his face all day long— _He’s your brother_ —doesn’t want to hear about death and blood but Fili relentlessly plows forward.

          “She told me to keep you safe.” Kili can tell that Fili has turned towards him because he can feel the warm breath against the side of his neck and jaw. He fights the urge to turn towards Fili because if he does then he will do what is only right and natural and press his lips to Fili’s—and Fili has made it abundantly clear that he can never do that again.

          “Fili please…” Kili unconsciously tightens his grip on Fili as the desire to capture those lips with his grows stronger with each passing second.

          “I ran…She gave you to me and told me to keep you safe so I ran…” Fili chokes on his next gasp. “I saw them just as I left—Father was trying to hold the door but there were too many…” Kili whimpers as Fili grips his chin and turns his head so that their foreheads rest together.

          “Fili…” Their breath mingles and those lips are _so close…_

          “Did you know that you never cried once that night?” He can smell Fili’s hair as a few stray stands tickle his nose and all he wants is to bury his face in those golden locks… “You were less than two days old and you never cried…”

          “Fili…” River blue eyes gaze at him, slightly cross-eyed but still completely fathomless. Kili’s breath catches as he takes in the faint laugh lines at the corners of Fili’s mouth, as he notes that Fili’s eyelashes are actually dark…

          _He’s your brother._

_It’s sick._

          But Fili is so close…And his golden lover, the brother he never wanted, does nothing to push him away as Kili continues to hold him…

          The sound of approaching footsteps echoes throughout the small room. Fili jerks away from him as though he’s been burned and Kili’s left with nothing more than the memory of Fili pressed against him and lingering warmth on his skin.

          Thorin appears in the doorway. Perhaps it’s just Kili thinking suspiciously, but he fancies that in the faint light he can see those eagle eyes searching for even the slightest hint of impropriety. With a low hiss, Kili stalks out of the room and shoves past Thorin. He does not look back at Fili, too afraid of what he might see.

          The warmth fades from his body as if it had never existed.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

          The whispers follow him through town and the drone is enough to make Kili glad that he chose to spend his day in the forest, hunting for game. He had considered going to Gloin’s forge but his stomach had twisted at the thought. Having to look at tools and only be able to think of Fili’s hands on them...Always hoping to see Fili out of the corner of his eye as he had so many times before…The memories crowd him, almost drowning him with their weight. No. Going back to the forge was not an option.

          Several coins clink in his pocket, the meager profit for his efforts. He’d come back with a pair of quail, a less than impressive catch and he was lucky to get the few coppers. It wasn’t that the hunting was poor—there had been plenty of game which had passed by. The fault lay with him. His aim hadn’t been that bad since he first started, hardly able to draw the bowstring back to his face, let alone sight a target.

          The sun still hangs high in the afternoon sky as Kili seeks the oft forgotten archery range. The white targets are stained with weather and disuse but the sight is familiar enough to calm. He draws and sights down the arrow before exhaling and releasing. The arrow lands with a dull thud in the outer rings of the target. Again. He tries to lose himself in the mindless repetition of the endless draw, sight, release—archery has always been the one facet of his life which made sense no matter what, his one refuge when the world threatened to cave in around him. The tension of the draw, the pull of muscle, the strain of the string—this he understands, this he can control.

          He spends all the arrows in his quiver and makes the trip to the targets several times to collect his arrows. After a while he notices the dull ache in his shoulders and arms but he forces himself on until he can’t draw his bowstring without shaking. After several spectacularly bad shots Kili stops in disgust. It’s not worth it if he can’t even shoot straight.

          As he walks away from the archery range Kili mentally calculates the amount of coins in his pocket against the price of a pint. He doesn’t even notice the clacking of wooden training swords until he accidentally stumbles on a bout. He looks up and it’s as though the world stops.

          There’s the same large, tattooed dwarf—Kili’s quite sick of him showing up everywhere—and… _Fili._ Fili looks absolutely breathtaking as he pauses in his sparring match. Even from a distance, Kili can tell that Fili’s breathing is labored. His hair has the slightly disheveled look that it gets whenever he’s been fighting or…Vicious memories of Fili, smirking as he rolled in the sheets with his hair that wonderful type of mussed, attack and Kili swallows hard to keep from whimpering.

          Kili watches as Fili takes a moment to regain his breath and wipe the sweat from his forehead before he lunges forward in a sloppy attack. Small, irritating tremors of _wrongness_ inch down his spine the longer he watches. In sparring Fili is normally patient and careful, waiting for his opponent to slip while he always keeps his own position covered with those double swords of his. Now…Fili blindly attacks and his movements are careless and discordant. There’s no finesse to any of his strikes or blocks—instead he seems to be fueled on pure rage and adrenaline.

          The burly dwarf blocks several of Fili’s attacks before withdrawing a step. Fili obviously sees this as a retreat and presses an attack, his right sword swinging behind his head. It’s no surprise to Kili when Knuckle-Duster Dwarf waits until Fili is almost on top of him before he ducks and slams the hilt of his sword into Fili’s stomach. Fili flies backwards and lands hard on the ground. Kili winces as the blonde coughs several times—it was a bad place to get hit and he can tell that the tattooed dwarf did not pull his blow.

          Kili, unable as he is to tear his eyes away from Fili, is an easy target. He doesn’t even realize that he’s being watched until the shadow slants over him. He looks up, immediately suspicious and meets the tattooed dwarf’s eyes.

          “Dwalin,” the brute says and at least now he has a name to put to the unwelcome face.

          There’s a pause. Kili supposes that this is the moment where he’s supposed to introduce himself but he doesn’t feel like being courteous. He feels like being a bit of an arse so he stares insolently at Dwalin, daring him to ask. The tattooed warrior does not rise to his bait and Kili feels a bit put out.

          “How about you take him on?” Dwalin gestures towards Fili. “He’s no good with me anymore—fresh partner would do wonders.”

          “No,” Kili states flatly and turns to walk away before he’s stopped by a strong hand which mercilessly clamps down tight on his shoulder.

          “Ah lad, I was only asking to be nice,” Dwalin says as he presses the training sword into his hand. “Now go on. Let me see if you know anything.”

          Kili unconsciously grips the sword tighter, his blood rising to the challenge in Dwalin’s voice and practically boiling at the nearness of Fili. He stares at the swordsman as he slowly pushes himself back up to his feet. A thin trickle of blood runs from his nose and Kili can already see the shadows of several forming bruises on his arms. Fili returns his stare and inwardly Kili wilts as he finds himself unable to read the expression behind Fili’s shuttered eyes.

          “Let’s just get this over with,” Kili grits as he settles into a stance which Fili taught him. He’s not going to fool himself—he’s going to lose and he’s going to lose badly. Even though Fili’s not in prime condition, he’s still attacking too furiously for Kili to even hope to defend himself. The most he can hope for is that Fili knocks him on his ass quickly. Kili shoots a glare over at Dwalin who watches them both with his arms crossed and an impassive expression on his scarred face. Instead of being remotely cowed, Dwalin simply jerks a thumb at him— _Get on with it,_ Kili reads in the gesture.

          Kili turns back to Fili and a swell of impotent, childish fury sweeps through him as he looks at Fili, who’s watching him with that damned blank look _—_ like none of this matters to him, like he doesn’t hurt at all. Kili suddenly wants to _make_ him hurt, cruelly wants Fili to fall apart, wants to rip that impassive, uncaring mask off and make him _feel_ …

          “What are you waiting for, _brother?”_ Kili sneers and feels a sick triumphant glow in his chest as Fili starts at the familial title. Blue eyes narrow by a small amount as Fili slides into his stance.

          “You don’t want to do this,” Fili warns. Watching how Fili changes into a crouching predator, Kili barely catches his words. Once he understands what Fili’s telling him, he frowns.

          “Hasn’t anyone told you, brother _?”_ Kili repeats, just to watch the twitch of Fili’s face as he ruthlessly presses the one advantage he has. “I never get what I want.”

          “Stop Kili,” Fili quietly demands as they begin the match. Fili’s sword tilts in front of his body to create a shield. Kili slides the opposite direction as they circle each other.

          “You first,” Kili whispers and barely brings his sword up in time to block Fili’s swift lunge. The impact leaves his arms tingling and he takes a step backwards to give himself a brief respite.

          Fili hardly gives him any time to rest as he charges forward, his sword aimed at Kili’s head. Kili ducks but the blow passes by close enough that the wind ruffles his hair. Fili still presses close and Kili shoves an elbow in his abdomen just to push him back. The two part again, Kili panting and Fili coughing.

          Kili shifts his weight on jittery feet as he waits for Fili to make his next move. He doesn’t dare to take his eyes off of Fili, too afraid that the slightest inattention will result in injury. He tries to grasp the connection which he always feels whenever he’s sparring with Fili but it’s as if the ends are frayed and continually slipping beyond his grasp. Kili shudders as he keeps on trying to reach the calm, quiet place within himself but everything is shifting around and within him, the earth crumbling under his feet.

When Fili looks up at him there’s finally, _finally,_ a gleam of emotion flickering within those cool blue eyes. “We don’t have to do this,” he warns, his voice thick and low. “You can walk away whenever you want.”

          “And you can stop whenever you want,” Kili spits. This time he darts forward, his sword striking low towards Fili’s abdomen. Fili twists to the side and blocks as he manages to stick his foot out. The obstruction trips Kili and it’s almost enough to send him sprawling but he somehow manages to regain his footing.

          Anger flashes in Kili and the sword falls from his hands. Suddenly it’s not enough to strike at Fili with a weapon—he wants to feel flesh underneath his hands when he strikes, wants the satisfaction of skin on skin contact. His attack comes as a surprise to Fili and Kili manages to land a decent blow to Fili’s chest before the swordsman seizes his tunic at the shoulders, his own sword clattering forgotten to the ground.

          “What do you think you’re doing?” Fili snarls as he lifts him several inches off of the ground. Kili’s feet strike blindly out until they make contact with Fili’s shin. The blonde hisses in sudden pain and jerks clumsily backwards. His grip on Kili is lost and Kili stumbles when his feet awkwardly come into contact with the ground. Kili hasn’t even regained his balance before Fili shoves him hard and sends him toppling to the ground.

          The rough ground scrapes his palms and Kili grimaces in pain. Fili’s boots move around him and swiftly as a snake, Kili’s hands wrap around one of the swordsman’s calves and jerk hard. Fili lands on his back with a pained shout and Kili crawls on top of him, his fingers already grasping at clothes and hair.

          There’s no style to their grappling. It’s all grunts and snarls, hands and fingers pushing and clawing, the rip of fabric and the dust rising around their bodies. Kili yelps as Fili yanks hard on his hair and Fili grunts as Kili’s knee winds its way into his side.

          “Just stop it!” Fili breathlessly orders as Kili strikes out at his face and chest. Fili has his head pulled so far backwards that he can’t see what he aims for but his palms strike hard muscle and that’s all he cares about. With a roar, Fili flips him over and the breath leaves Kili’s lungs in a hard whoosh.

          “You started all this, you end it,” Kili growls. He futilely pushes at Fili’s shoulders but the blonde easily captures his wrists and pins them to the ground. With a jolt, Kili remembers the first night they kissed—Fili had pinned him then too, just before he pulled him up and kissed him hard—

          Fili’s eyes darken as his hands tighten painfully on Kili’s wrists. Kili’s heart hammers in his chest as the prince leans in close and his lips part as he struggles to breath. Fili’s braids strike his chin and despite himself, Kili whimpers as he feels the blonde’s weight press down firmly on him.

          The lightning which passes through the azure depths does not go unnoticed and Kili’s hope flares wildly before Fili rolls off of him with a loud cry. Kili can do nothing more than lay helplessly on the ground and watch as Fili’s voice breaks in a frustrated scream. Kili desperately whines in powerless anguish as Fili’s fingers delve into his hair and ruthlessly pull at the long golden strands.

          “Mahal!” Fili cries as he whirls backwards and looks at Kili with wild, terrified eyes. “Damn you Kili!” With one last, stricken look backwards at Kili, Fili flees the practice ring.

          Kili watches the bright blonde hair until it disappears around a corner. He tries to control his breathing as well as the soft, injured moans which threaten to escape from his chest and it’s only the low growl of a cleared throat which stops him from curling into a small ball. Kili startles and his eyes seek out Dwalin, who stands with his arms folded and an impassive face. As Kili watches, the tattooed warrior nods as though Kili's passed some sort of test.

          “What?” Kili snaps, silently cursing his own weakness as tears begin to threaten. Shame attacks as his eyes water and Kili angrily scrubs at his eyes.

          “Get yourself cleaned up lad,” is the only answer he receives before Dwalin exits the practice ring. Kili finds himself alone once more, with only the memory of Fili’s agonized cry and the tortured expression in his eyes.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

Life goes on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Urgh.
> 
> -sad head shake-


	18. How Many Times Can I Break till I Shatter?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kili gives up and Fili falls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Just...wow guys. I never dreamed that this story would take off like it has and just...I look at my computer and have to flail because all of you are so wonderful and supportive and constructive and...
> 
> See, there I'm flailing again. 
> 
> What I meant to say is thank you.

After a week Kili finally starts to contemplate leaving.

          Every day drags on, a seeming eternity of minutes ticking by while he’s forced to watch others in their simple happiness. He wants to slap the dwarves who pass him on the street, bland smiles plastered to their faces. It feels like they’re mocking him.

          Fili is a statue, cold and unreadable. After the afternoon in the sparring ring they’re both painfully careful of being around each other. Over their time together, Kili developed an acute awareness of exactly where Fili was in any given space—now he uses that to know when to slip away before he can be seen.

          The hope still flowers within him that Fili will change his mind and come to him, with arms held open in welcome. But even that faint dream begins to wither underneath the overwhelming pile of evidence which says that he’s waiting for the impossible.

          _He’s your brother._

          And so, fleeing headlong into vile habits, Kili seeks his refuge in drunkenness. Tonight finds him in a shady, hole in the wall tavern which is more of a shed with a few kegs than anything else. It still serves mead, though it tastes more like piss-water than anything else. After he has a few pints the taste doesn’t bother him so much and the drinks go down easier. Soon enough he reaches the comfortable point of inebriation and he slides a few coins across the counter and pulls his hood up, fingers fumbling only slightly with the fabric.

          It’s not until his hand is on the door that Kili pays attention to the snickering voices behind him. When he finally listens carefully he grits his teeth and tries to keep from being sick all over the floor.

          “Is that the one who fucked his brother?”

          “I’m almost sure of it…”

          “Fucked the little princeling…fucked his brother…”

          The whispers haven’t ceased around him yet. Kili’s become accustomed to the sound, likening it to a small swarming of insects always hovering just two feet behind him. Still, this is the first time anyone’s dared to speak loudly of it in his presence. His hand shakes ever so slightly as he slowly releases the doorknob.  

          Kili turns around to face the speakers. They are two dwarves with unkempt beards and ragged clothes. They don’t appear to be much older than him but already have more bulk in their shoulders. Two identical leers greet him and a mug is raised to him in a parody of a toast.

          “Evening my prince,” the one who raised the mug sneers at him. Kili bristles at his words as much as the tone—he’s not a damn prince, no matter how much Thorin wants to make him one. He glares at the dwarf and immediately hates everything about him—from his sickening grin, to his small, beady eyes, to the dirt which seems to be permanently ground into his beard. “Come have a pint?”

          “Not with you,” Kili mutters as he turns to leave, unsteady on his feet. The alcohol already impairs him and he’s only more unsettled from overhearing their conversation. As much as he hates Thorin’s cottage he suddenly wants to be there, where only his inner voice can torment him.

          “Now isn’t that funny…the princeling doesn’t mind fucking his brother but he’s too good to drink with the likes of us.”

          As insults go, it’s nothing spectacular or creative, or even particularly cutting if Kili was in his right mind, but he’s not. Exhaustion, inebriation, and above all else, the agony of wanting, of _loving_ without _having_ makes him stiffen and slowly turn to face the speakers. They smirk victoriously at him.

          “Fucking pervert,” the second dwarf snarls before he takes a deep swig of his drink. “Tell us how you did it at least. He was as frigid as a winter storm so tell us how you pried his legs apart.”

          “Must have been like fucking the gods themselves, that tight ass around your cock,” the first dwarf rejoins. Waves of fury shake his body and Kili closes his eyes against the black anger which seeps deep into his blood.

          “Still fucking disgusting,” the second dwarf spits. Kili cannot tear his eyes away from the white gob of spittle on the dirty floor. “That’s what the line of Durin is right there—nothing more than trash and with that fucking blonde pervert—“

          Maybe the dwarf would have said something else but Kili’s fist is already in his face, cutting off his words. The crush of flesh between his knuckles is immensely satisfying, so much so that Kili backhands the dwarf behind him. Shouts erupt in the bar as the other patrons try to scatter out of the way of the brawl.

          Even the crack of a fist against his jaw is refreshing, stars dancing on the edges of his vision and his head whipping backwards. His foot shoots out, catches the offender in the shin and while the dwarf is still hopping in pain Kili slams his fist into the unprotected solar plexus. The dwarf drops and with a sense of satisfaction, Kili brings a knee into his nose, effectively ending that particular dwarf’s participation.

          Two hands clasped together slam into the back of his head and knock him to the ground. This time Kili gasps for breath, white blanking out the edges of his vision as he tries to rapidly regain his bearings. He blinks and has barely managed to clear the spots from his eyes when those same hands seize his shoulders and haul him upright. A fist crushes his cheek, then his nose.

          “No wonder your brother tired of you,” the dwarf grunts as he holds the collar of Kili’s shirt in a meaty hand sporting dirty fingernails. “Weak as you are…I’d suspect that he’d prefer something proper between the sheets…”

          “Shut the _fuck_ up,” Kili growls as he slams his knee into his captor’s groin. With a strangled whimper, the filthy dwarf drops to his knees, mouth open in a comical expression of pain. Kili’s hand gropes on the table, comes up with a half-empty tankard and cracks it across the dwarf’s face. The dwarf falls forward with the sound of a sack of potatoes hitting the ground.

          Kili passes a shaking hand over his face and fights down the insistent urge which rises—the one which tells him that he needs to get to Fili. He takes a deep breath, hoping that the moment will pass but it only grows stronger—he has to see Fili, has to know that he’s all right. It’s unnecessary, this feeling of possessiveness, the wild need to protect and place his claim but he’s drunk and he can’t fight his own wishes anymore.

          When Kili stumbles in through the front door of the cottage, being quiet is the last possible thought on his mind. The door slams behind him and the heavy thud booms through the house. The echo of his boots hitting the floor follows. He lurches towards the staircase, banging off of the walls on his way.

          “Kili.” The quiet voice from the direction of the sitting room stops him dead and Kili blearily blinks towards the dying fire. Fili stands silhouetted against its light, tiny glints of light shining off the beads of his braids. Kili sways on the spot as Fili—his brother—walks towards him. He wants to say something, but his drunken mind can’t come up with anything that would sound remotely sensible so he watches Fili in silence until the swordsman stands in front of him.

          “You’re hurt,” Fili notices quietly and Kili can hear a hint of shared pain in his voice. Still, Fili does not reach out for him and that hurts worse than any punch he could have taken. “Have you been fighting?”

          “Brilliant deduction,” Kili slurs and despite his desire to see Fili he decides that he’s had quite enough of the elder at the moment. “Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to go to bed.”

          “Yeah, all right,” Fili mumbles and he steps back. Kili doesn’t know what he expected but it wasn’t this easy acquiescence. Disappointed, Kili starts up the stairs, footsteps clomping heavily.

          Kili sits heavily on the bed and holds his spinning head in his hands until he feels as though it might not fall off his shoulders. He doesn’t notice the quiet footsteps which pad into his room until large hands gently raise his head up. Kili blinks in the light of the candle which Fili holds to his face. “Put that away,” he mumbles, squinting in pain.

          Without taking his eyes off of the thin trickle of blood, Fili sets the candle on the table beside the bed. Kili tries to jerk his head away but Fili’s fingers on his chin keep him immobile.  Kili closes his eyes as the fingers of Fili’s free hand caress over the bruises which mar his face. If he tries hard enough then he can almost convince himself that these are the touches of a lover and not of a sibling.

          “Let me clean these,” Fili whispers to him before he releases Kili’s chin. When the sensation of fingertips leaves his face Kili feels the same sense of loss which seems to accompany him like a shadow. Dizziness makes him grip the edges of the mattress in his hands and he closes his eyes in an attempt to fight the world swirling around him. The touch of a cold, wet cloth against the skin of his face startles him and his eyes fly open. Fili supports his chin while he dabs at the blood leaking out of Kili’s nose and the corner of his mouth and the surge of love which courses through Kili is almost painful in its ferocity.

          “Why were you fighting?” Fili asks, like he actually wants to know. Shadows fall across his face but his voice is even and his expression kind. For the first time in a week it feels like he has the old Fili back, the one who was made of flesh and blood and loved just as fiercely as Kili did. It’s not true and Kili bites his lip hard in order to dispel the illusion.

          “Because I wanted to,” he answers snottily.

          Fili looks like he might want to smile and Kili wonders if he looks as wretched as the blonde. Deep black circles lurk underneath his eyes and his hair seems to lack some of its former luster. Kili can almost convince himself that he sees the hint of some of the old love and affection chasing around Fili’s cerulean eyes before it’s gone, wiped painfully clean.

          “Why did you want to fight?” Fili’s fingertip brushes the corner of Kili’s mouth and Kili wants nothing more than to suck the digit into his mouth, worship its every surface with his tongue. As if he can read his mind, Fili yanks his finger away from Kili’s face. The blue eyes do not meet his. Instead, Fili ducks his gaze down to inspect the bruised and torn skin on Kili’s knuckles.

          After moments drag on in Kili’s determined silence, Fili finally looks at him. “Why did you want to fight?” It’s not fair, him asking a question when he still holds Kili’s hands in his. Fili’s hands are infuriatingly steady, a sharp contrast to his, which tremble like leaves in the breeze. Fili’s thumb rubs small circles in the skin over his knuckle. Not fair at all.

          Kili casts a sullen eye up at Fili. “There might have been mentions of brother fucking,” he finally admits. The sudden tremor in Fili’s hand might almost be worth it, were it not for the flash of pain on Fili’s face.

          “Oh Kili.” Fili’s hand returns to his face and his thumb traces over a small bruise on Kili’s chin. Kili chokes back a gasp as Fili’s thumb continues its journey across the lower part of his face, catching on the plumpness of his lower lip.

          “Fili…” This time Kili cannot restrain himself and his tongue darts out, swift as a blink, to flick against Fili’s skin. With a strangled gasp Fili presses his thumb into Kili’s lip, hard enough that Kili feels the calloused skin against his teeth. Before Fili can pull back Kili captures the tip of his thumb in his mouth, holds the knuckle between his teeth as he sucks tentatively on the digit.

          Fili growls low in his throat as his other hand grips Kili’s shoulder hard enough to leave bruises. Kili’s head spins and he bites down harder on Fili’s knuckle, leaving indentations in the skin. It’s wrong, he shouldn’t… _wrong,_ his brain screams at him—but it is Fili and it seems as though all rules flee when Fili is concerned.

          Brother or lover—does any of it matter when Fili’s growl turns into a possessive snarl? The swordsman’s hand finally migrates from Kili’s shoulder to clutch at the tangled hair at the nape of his neck, pulling his head back and exposing the line of his throat.

          “Stop it,” Fili orders, though his voice is husky. Kili recognizes the slight haze in Fili’s eyes, his archer’s notice of tiny details catches the gnawing of Fili’s lower lip. “Kili, we can’t…” He gasps when Kili worries the knuckle of his thumb between his teeth, biting harder than he had originally intended.

          Finally Fili wrenches his thumb away and Kili’s teeth click together with nothing to hold between them. “This was a mistake,” Fili says as he takes a small step backwards. “I’m sorry Kili…” The blonde halfway turns towards the door and Kili lunges.

          Though the world seems to tilt around him he manages to grab hold of Fili’s arms. Fili freezes in surprise and this hesitation is the only reason that Kili can toss his lover’s _(brother’s)_ bulkier frame onto his bed. Before Fili has a chance to get up Kili clambers over him and clamps his thighs tightly around the elder’s hips. He pins Fili’s hands next to his head and leans over him so close that their noses touch.

          Kili has never won a wrestling match with Fili. In that arena the swordsman undoubtedly has the advantage over his slimmer frame. So when he’s not immediately thrown off, Kili takes it for acceptance. Besides, there is the barely repressed gleam of lust in those blue eyes and the tell-tale flush has already begun to spread across Fili’s nose and cheeks.

          “Kili, don’t,” Fili says, his voice breaking halfway through his name. Something rational breaks through the haze in Kili’s mind and he almost considers obeying Fili’s request. To continue will topple the precarious card deck of their illusion—but to not continue, to turn away…He will not. He _can_ not, not now when everything which he wants is so close and there for the taking. The sober part of him roars for him to stop now, while there is still hope of Fili relenting but the rest of him, the part controlled by _feel_ and _want_ knows that Fili will never relent, will never break and love him again.

          If his fate is to be forsaken by Fili he can at least try for one perfect night before everything shatters.  

          “I love you,” Kili says, because Fili needs to know that, needs to know that even if Kili breaks their unspoken promise and forces Fili to acknowledge what he must not (brothers, they should have been raised underneath the same roof), he only does so because the _love,_ the _need,_ the _want,_ relentlessly tears at him. It is love which has worn him thin, frayed and stretched him beyond all hope of struggle. Even if he wanted to resist there’s quite simply not enough of him left to make a stand.

          “Kili please don’t,” Fili begs, but his fingers curl towards Kili’s hands, tips brushing his skin. “Kili…”

          Kili knows what Fili is trying to tell him, what his breathless, heartbroken pleas mean. _Do not kiss me. Do not bed me. Do not love me._ But it is impossible not to love Fili—he has tried and all it has done is hollow him out, scrape his innards until he is merely a shell of himself.

          “I love you,” Kili whispers, the words an explanation and an apology all at the same time. “I’m sorry Fili…”

          Fili shakes his head as blue eyes look up at him, wide and terrified. There’s a hint of betrayal floating in the shiny surface but still Fili does not push him away. Kili stares at him for a moment, committing the sight to memory.

          In the cold, dark nights, when the need for Fili scratches at his skin and delves deep into his very soul, he will need the image of Fili, ruined and betrayed by him, to remind him why he left.

          Kili lowers his head until his lips brush against Fili’s…brush against his brother’s. Truth, harsh and blinding, slams into him as he acknowledges that he should not be doing this—but he is and it’s still _Fili…_ The tentative slide of lips becomes a hard press. At first Fili is stiff beneath him, lips pursed tightly in refusal. Then his brother starts to melt and the lips underneath his become softer and more pliant.

          Kili runs his tongue along the seam of Fili’s lips. After a moment Fili parts his lips.

          Kili slides his tongue into Fili’s mouth, touches his brother’s tongue with his, and dives headlong into ruin.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

          _Wrong._

_Wrong._

_Wrong._

But blissfully, unequivocally right.

          So easy, to allow his body to take control, to let his arms wind around Kili’s shoulders and pull him flush against his chest. So comforting to part his lips against Kili’s onslaught and touch the invading tongue with his own. Familiarity abounds as their tongues explore well-trod territory, each slide of flesh reacquainting them with blissful memories. How can this be wrong, the immediate ecstasy which Kili’s touch provides him with, the sweet contentment of his very soul at his brother’s _(lover’s)_ kiss?

          Fili moans into Kili’s mouth as the archer grinds down on him. He’s already hard, damn him to the bowels of Mordor, hard for his little brother…The little treacherous voice in the back of his head whispers that Kili was his One before he became his brother, but that’s not true is it? He was Fili’s brother before everything, sixty-five years ago when Fili listened to him being born, listened to the wails as Kili emerged from his mother—their mother.

          He should stop this, stop them. They cannot continue. His lips still move against Kili’s in a smooth slide of flesh, their tongues easily gaining and relinquishing dominance. They’d been doing so well hadn’t they? Of course it was torturous listening to Kili stumble up the stairs every night and hearing him collapse into bed and it took all of Fili’s strength not to crawl into the same bed and wrap himself around that beloved form.

          It was not that he’d had immense reserves of willpower, he knows that now. It was simply that Kili was not in front of him, his dark eyes desperately mirroring all of the emotions which Fili himself felt. But now the force of Kili’s desire, need, and grief breaks upon him and Fili is swept away, little more than a tiny grain of sand in the wake of the ocean. _Wrong,_ his morals whisper as Kili twists his moustache around his fingers. _Wrong,_ as teeth scrape over his jugular and dig into his skin. _Wrong,_ as long fingers yank his thin cotton shirt over his stomach and chest.

          And may all the Valar help him because Fili, without any prompting, sits up and lets Kili pull his shirt over his head.

          Kili’s fingers trail over his skin the instant that Fili lays back down, tracing over his collarbone down to his chest. They stray perilously close to a nipple and Fili fights the urge to arch into the touch. He tells himself that he’s still trying to stop this but that lie becomes more difficult to maintain when he feels his hardness already pushing at the confines of his breeches.

          Fili chokes on his moan as Kili suckles the delicate flesh of his clavicle and he bites his lip to restrain the sound. It feels strange to him—his body wants to respond to Kili’s touch like it always has but instead he fights what seems to be the most natural reaction in the world. He has to remind himself that what they’re doing is against the laws—or it should be at least.

          “Kili…” Fili’s voice ends in a keening moan as Kili laves a scorching, wet tongue over his nipple. “Kili, we can’t,” he pants once he regains the power of speech. “Please we…we can’t…”

          When Fili feels Kili’s lips move against his skin he assumes that the younger dwarf _(his younger brother)_ has simply decided to grace his body with more of his unholy tongue. It’s only after a moment that Fili hears the soft murmur of Kili’s voice. His hand at the nape of Kili’s neck forces the archer’s head up to face him. The sharp glint of regret in Kili’s eyes slices through him and then Fili understands the words which fall from Kili’s _(his brother’s)_ kiss-swollen lips.

          “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Fili please…” Kili squirms out of his grasp and presses his lips against Fili’s chest, just over his heart, in a desperate open-mouthed kiss. “This is the last time, please, let me…I need this Fili please…I’ll never again…I promise, never…” Kili’s hands clench on Fili’s waist as he repeats the last words. They echo through Fili’s mind, each dropping into his consciousness with a sound of foreboding. _Last time…never again…sorry, so sorry…_

          Kili kisses his way down Fili’s chest, his movements sloppier and less coordinated than usual. Normally he plays Fili’s body like he works at the forge—intent on every detail, focusing until he draws exactly the perfect reaction out of him but now he moves hastily, hands already tugging at the drawstrings of Fili’s pants. Inebriation might count for some of it, lust another, but if Fili’s suspicions are correct then the raw need coursing through Kili, after having been separated for a week, is the cause of the fumbling motions.

          “Kili stop,” Fili groans as Kili starts to roughly tug at the waistband of his trousers. “Kili, don’t do this.” Fili’s grateful that at least he sounds like he might be the least little bit in control of his own body and his emotions—he can’t control either, they rage like wildfire against dried leaves.

          Kili looks at him, eyes wild and desperate and if it weren’t for the hardness he can feel pressing against him Fili would swear that Kili doesn’t even want the sex. Perhaps Kili, like himself, wants it _too_ much. So much desire and need and love pounding against what should and should not be done—they are torn apart again and again with nothing but each other to cling to—he should never have followed Kili up the stairs.

          Fili is just about to voice another feeble protest when “Fili, _please_ ,” falls from Kili’s lips and Fili doesn’t think that he could deny that voice anything.

          When Kili finally pulls his breeches off of his hips with stilted and unusually awkward motions, Fili’s erection lies proud and shamefully hard against his stomach. If he wants to deny that he wants this, that he aches for it, then his body has just proven him a liar. Still, he tries to temper the sharp edge of his desperate lust, tries to force himself away from the brink of destruction. The attempt matters, Fili tells himself, the attempt at least proves that he’s not some sick pervert, hard for his little brother.

          “Just one last time,” Kili whispers, just before he takes Fili in his mouth.

          Mind wiped blank from the sensation, Fili can’t help but thrust his hips into the warm, wet cavern of Kili’s mouth and his breath tears from him in a harsh whine as Kili allows the movement and relaxes his jaw until Fili’s cock hits the back of his throat. Fili cranes his neck to look down his body to see Kili’s head bobbing up and down, the dark hair splayed across the tops of his thighs like a curtain. Kili’s tongue works at him, curls around his shaft before it traces the prominent vein on the underside of his cock.

          “Kili…Kili please…” Fili’s not sure whether or not he’s begging Kili to keep going or to stop but the act of saying the words comforts him. Kili relentlessly continues his actions, drawing more and more sounds from Fili.

          When Fili thinks that he might be torn apart from the pleasure and the guilt he finally reaches out, tangles his fingers in his lover’s _(brother’s)_ dark hair. Ugly shame loses to raging desire and his teeth sink into his lip as he guides Kili’s head and slowly starts to fuck his mouth. Kili doesn’t fight his control but when Fili reaches his free hand down to curl his fingers around Kili’s hand the archer doesn’t return his touch. Fili’s not even aware that there was a thin tendril of warmth growing within him until it withers at Kili’s lack of response.

          Fili’s hand tightens in Kili’s hair as he feels pleasure boil within him. “K—Kili,” he gasps, back arching off of the bed as his orgasm rushes on him. At this point he’s not sure whether he wants Kili to keep going or stop—he just wants some of this pressure off of him. _“Kili,”_ he groans, voice sounding low and gravelly.

          Kili pulls off, lips swollen and flushed and despite everything, hot lust floods Fili’s gut. _Mahal,_ but his lover, who is also his little brother, looks absolutely delicious with his pupils blown and the skin around his mouth rubbed raw. Primal heat coils through him, mingling with guilt and turning the mixture into a bitter, potent cocktail which sends him reeling.

          Kili sits back on his haunches as he haphazardly knocks the ties on his breeches loose. As the archer slides out of his pants he ducks his head and hides his eyes from Fili. He doesn’t even look at Fili when he crawls on top of him. Fili wants to arch up for a kiss but he somehow knows that Kili won’t allow it. It hurts more than it should—he should be happy that Kili is finally realizing the monumental consequences of this act—but instead Kili’s withdrawal just leaves him empty and rejected.

          Fili cannot help the broken whimper which bubbles from between clenched teeth as Kili licks his palm and then reaches behind himself to stroke Fili, short tugs which send sparks racing across Fili’s skin. Fili’s hand rests heavy on Kili’s hip, fingers pushing aside the fabric of Kili’s shirt (why had he left his shirt on?) to touch skin. The touch of Kili’s fingers against him is good, so good that Fili allows his eyes to close for moment. The feeling of pressure against the head of his cock, almost blindingly tight with unbearable friction, however, makes his eyes fly open. He focuses on Kili above him as his little brother slowly forces himself down on his cock.

          “W—what d’you think you’re do…doing?” Fili stutters out, fighting to keep his composure even though Kili is a blazing inferno holding him in a punishing vice-grip. All worries of morality fly out of his head and all that matters for Fili is the tight, pained expression pinching Kili’s features.

          “Say my name?” Kili finally asks, sounding small and broken. When sapphire blue finally meets chocolate brown guilt crashes through Fili. Unshed tears glint in Kili’s eyes and Fili doesn’t doubt that it’s from his cock slowly filling the archer. Still, underneath the bright glare of physical discomfort is the worse slice of a pain which goes far beyond the body. Fili opens his suddenly dry mouth to speak but no words come out.

          “P-please Fili! Just say it!” Kili exhales with a wince and his plea ends in a whimper as he finally takes all of Fili’s cock in himself.

          Fili mouths helplessly at Kili, the power of speech having temporarily left him as Kili experimentally rocks against him. It is a battle not to mindlessly thrust into that friction and heat holding him but the sight of Kili’s furrowed brow and agonized eyes makes the victory easy.

          Kili rocks forward, hips pulling up before they push roughly down and Fili keens with a pleasure he must be damned for. Unbidden, he finally fulfills his lover’s request, head thrown back as he wails, _“Kili!”_ For a brief moment he doesn’t care that it is his brother above him, that they are probably condemned in the sight of all gods and mortals, or even that he’s woken Thorin up with his noise. For that shining moment it is simply him and Kili and they are performing the act of which they were perhaps created—the simple joining of two into one, the mingling of separate halves into a single whole.

          A tear trickles out of Kili’s right eye and makes its slow way down the sharp line of his cheekbone to his chin. Despite this, Kili smiles down at Fili, wide, disarming and utterly heartbreaking. Something hot and painful twists within Fili as their eyes meet.

          “Thank you,” Kili whispers and Fili doesn’t like the tone in the darker dwarf’s voice. Kili’s eyes are shadowed from him, like the other knows something and he doesn’t wish for Fili to be let in on the secret yet. Fili opens his mouth to confront the bowman but Kili chooses that moment to roll his hips forward. Fili’s mouth falls open and his fingers find their way to Kili’s hip to dig into the skin.

          “It’s…it’s all right,” Kili murmurs. His head lolls forward and the curtain of his dark hair falls around his face, hiding his expression. “Just this…just this last time…”

          “What are you talking about?” Fili growls, the lurch of foreboding mixing unpleasantly with the steadily increasing inferno of desire already blazing within him.

          The desolation in Kili’s eyes is enough to knock the dangerous edge off of his arousal. Fili licks suddenly dry lips as his heart starts to thud against his ribcage. “K—Kili?” he questions, suddenly uncertain.

          “Don’t worry about it,” Kili tells him right before he rocks backward. His cock slips even deeper into the clutching heat of Kili’s body and Aule damn it all, it’s _so good…_ but the nagging feeling that he’s missing something still remains. Kili throws his head back, the tips of his dark hair brushing against Fili’s thighs. Even though the sight of Kili with the line of his throat bared is utterly captivating, Fili still isn’t happy. If they’re going to do this, they might as well ruin themselves utterly: he wants to see Kili’s face, wants to watch the way his mouth falls open and his cheeks flush as he falls apart. 

          With coordination that he wasn’t aware he possessed Fili digs his heels into the bed and sits up. He snakes one arm around Kili’s back to press his body close, chests brushing as their faces come into close contact.

          “Kili,” Fili moans as he adjusts to the new position, the feeling of Kili riding him and the almost unbearable desire to rut wildly into the body on top of him driving him mad. Fili’s braids are wrapped around Kili’s fingers as the archer holds onto him. For a brief second their eyes meet and that same lost, forsaken look is in Kili’s eyes. Then Kili presses his lips to Fili’s temple and buries his face in his thick hair. His breath filters through the tawny strands to waft against Fili’s already over-sensitized neck and Fili shivers, even as his hips thrust upward. Kili’s fingernails dig into the muscles of his shoulders as his little brother forces himself down, riding Fili with a relentless pace which is almost frightening.

          “I’m so tired,” Kili whispers, his words punctuated by soft gasps as Fili’s hand on his hip starts to guide their pace. “I just…I’m sorry Fili but I _need_ you…”

          “Kili,” Fili grunts out as he feels his orgasm swiftly approaching. _“Kili,”_ he breathes shakily as his need becomes ever greater. His fingernails dig into the skin on Kili’s hips as he pushes upwards. His teeth find the juncture where Kili’s neck meets his chest and he mercilessly bites down as his orgasm blasts through his body.

          His hips thrust up into Kili’s body in short spastic jerks as Fili groans from around his mouthful of flesh. From a distance he feels the warm sticky substance of Kili’s release between them. As the last trembling of his aftershocks fade, Fili still shakes—now with horror because he understands the dark truth in his heart.

          The words in his head, whispering dreadful tales about corruption and perversion mean nothing anymore. Kili is _his_ and he belongs to Kili—as surely as his heart beats in his chest, Fili knows this.

          _He’s your brother._

          He faintly registers the uncomfortable feeling of slipping out of Kili. His brother leans over him as Fili curls into himself, mercilessly biting his lip as the full consequences of his realization strike.

          “I’m sorry,” Kili whispers again and Fili thinks, _No, I’m sorry_ because loves him, down to the dirt under his fingernails, he’s in love with Kili and it’s even worse than before. He doesn’t want to love him, he simply _does,_ and now he knows that it’s never going to change, that Kili’s name will forever be emblazoned on his heart.

          “Fili?” Kili questions hesitantly and Fili doesn’t pay attention to the words because all he can think of is how lovely his name sounds when it’s Kili saying it. “Fili, please…”

          Fili shakes his head with a low moan because he’s not ready to face Kili, not with oppressing knowledge of his failure—he should have been strong enough for both of them. It was his responsibility to keep them both from tumbling into this beautiful ruination. The thought of others’ scorn doesn’t hurt him so much as the thought that he shouldn’t have dragged Kili into this as well. He wants so much more for Kili—wants him to smile and face the world with that confident, challenging smirk and he doesn’t want his perfect little brother to have to follow him into the misery which surely awaits them both.

          He pushes himself up and stumbles out of Kili’s room into the sparse comfort of his own. A few moments after he collapses into his bed he hears the soft pad of bare feet along the wood floor. A tentative hand traces along his shoulders and without meaning to, Fili flinches away from the attempted comfort. He doesn’t deserve it, not from Kili who should have gotten so much better. Perhaps later he will take the solace which Kili offers but not tonight, not now when he’s raw and bloody.

          “I’m sorry Fili,” Kili tells him and there’s the fleeting mercy of a touch along his face, the whisper soft feel of a kiss pressed to his temple. The door shuts behind Kili and Fili curls tighter into himself.

          In the morning, he decides, as his shaking finally subsides to small tremors which only occasionally wrack his body. In the morning he and Kili together will determine where their lives will go from here.

          In the morning, everything will be better.

         

 

 

          In the morning when Fili wakes, Kili is gone. 


	19. He Should've Never Left You Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after...and Thorin tries to mend his mistakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So maybe some of you are tired of me putting Thank Yous at the beginning of every chapter, but um...get over it. Because seriously, the amount of love that this story gets is just...I sit at my computer and screech and flail and cry because you guys are seriously AWESOME.
> 
> And so, in reward, a slightly less angsty chapter, just to give you a breather.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

In the early morning, when Fili’s door creaks open, there’s no sign that anything is amiss. From where he sits in the kitchen, Thorin frowns around his mug of tea at the sounds of stirring in the household. Even after a sleepless night he still has no solution as to how to broach the talk which _must_ happen between his nephew and himself.

          There was no way to mistake the noises which came from Kili’s room last night. Terror and anger had twisted in his stomach as he tried to block the sighs, moans and cries which filtered through the walls and doors until they settled in his skull. All of his pillows and blankets stuffed against his ears hadn’t been enough to fully muffle the sounds. He’d lain awake for the rest of the night, his brain grinding away at how in Durin’s name he was ever supposed to face either one of them, how he was supposed to stop the avalanche which had been unleashed in his house.

Irritation peaks when Kili’s door slams against the wall and the frantic footsteps move towards the stairs. Fili’s voice carries through the house: “Kili? Kili?” The faintest tendril of fear wraps around Thorin’s heart.

          Fili pounds down the stairs, his hair tangled and breeches barely hanging on his hips. Panic-stricken eyes meet Thorin’s vaguely confused ones and Fili doesn’t even bother to look embarrassed.

          “Kili’s gone,” he breathlessly announces and Thorin pushes away from the table before he knows he’s moving, the cup of tea falling from the table and spilling over the floor. The anxiety in Fili’s eyes is agonizing and he aches for his eldest nephew as he pushes past him towards the stairs.

          The door to Kili’s room remains open, ominously beckoning him closer. The room has always been bare but now it appears positively stripped, bereft of even the few possessions which Kili had placed within. Most telling, all of his weapons are missing. The curtains of the open window flutter in the slight breeze, whispers of taunting laughter.

          Fili frantically paces behind him, filled with the nervous energy which Thorin barely suppresses. As he feels his own calm start to slip Thorin turns and firmly grabs Fili’s shoulders, stilling his nervous movements. “Do you know of any places where he would go?”

          Fili’s eyes dart behind him to take in the emptiness of the room before he looks back. Thorin gives him a small shake, impatience flooding his body. Fili’s eyes widen, startled, before he looks at him and nods.

          Thorin returns the nod, mind already working several steps ahead of Fili’s. “Once you’re dressed you’ll start looking there. I’ll start questioning the merchants, see if anyone…see if anyone’s purchased supplies for a journey recently.” He tries to ignore how Fili’s face whitens at his words.

          “It’s my fault,” Fili whispers. Thorin inwardly winces. He’s not ready to have this conversation yet, though to be fair, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be ready.  

          “It’s not,” comes the automatic reply, though he’s sure that there could be no other reason.

          Fili laughs and Thorin flinches at the brittle bitterness of the sound. “Whose else could it be uncle? I know I’m the only reason he stayed and if he believed…if he believed that I didn’t wish for him to be here…if he thought that I’d hated him for his actions…”

          Thorin can guess what Fili means and he still doesn’t feel prepared to have this talk. Volatile emotions still swirl within him, creating a tempest of unpredictability and yet somehow, he can’t walk away, not when Fili stares blankly at the floor and the anguish in his face looks as though it’s been carved in stone. After a hard swallow, he finds himself asking, “Well? Are you angry?”Fili pauses and refuses to look Thorin in the eyes. _Please say yes,_ Thorin silently prays, hoping for a bright future for his eldest nephew. His hopes are shattered when Fili finally speaks.

“At first yes,” Fili finally says. “I…I’m aware of the ramifications uncle, you must believe me. I’m aware that it’s…I know of what talk would spread and how it would reflect on the line…” Fili swallows hard as he finally brings his tortured blue eyes to meet his. “But denying him is like denying a part of myself…my brother he may be but…he’s also my One and I can’t…I tried, you must believe me, I _tried_ to fight it but it was impossible. I was going to tell him this morning…and I went into his room…”

          To Thorin’s horror tears appear in Fili’s eyes, Fili, his strong boy who doesn’t even cry when he falls off his pony and breaks his ankle. Thorin moves without thinking and crushes Fili to his chest in a strong embrace. Fili stiffens against him before he sags in his arms and buries his face in his shoulder. Thorin holds his shaking body close, love surging through his body. He thinks he finally understands what it means to be a father, to be terrified, proud, furious and yet, beneath it all, feel the need to protect this precious being no matter the cost.

          The damp spot from Fili’s tears soaks through his tunic to touch his skin. “We’ll find him Fili,” he promises, though he has no idea how he’s to fulfill that pledge. He simply knows that the only way to make Fili smile is to bring Kili back. Fili stops shuddering in his arms and Thorin finally releases his tight hold. “Now go get dressed.”

          Fili nods before he returns to his room, leaving Thorin precious few moments to gather his thoughts. He’d hoped to Mahal that it was nothing more than a passing whim between two young dwarves. Even against all of the evidence to the contrary he had wanted it to be nothing more than a dalliance. Even if it had been serious he had hoped that the revelation of their lineage had been enough to stop them.

          He never should have doubted the bond. He should have trusted his own eyes and instincts. He’d only wanted to protect them from the sneers and violence of others, only wanted them to have an easier life than he himself had been given. Now, perhaps in response to his own actions, Fili’s tears still soak his shirt and Kili’s whereabouts are unknown.

          Fili emerges from his room, looking slightly more presentable, though the wild frantic look still remains in his eyes and in the jerkiness of his movements. Thorin gives him a short nod before he turns and strides down the stairs.

          When it comes to his nephews he has failed them so many times, all in the name of preserving his line. He has always believed that the line was more important than the individual, that the line had to endure past an insignificant life.

          And now, Thorin finds that all he desires is for Fili to smile, wide and unguarded as he did when he was a child, and for Kili to look at him without the lingering resentment and distrust sharpening his gaze. He’s been given a chance to perhaps even the scales of his life, to perhaps atone for the decision made sixty five years ago. He cannot squander this.

 -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

          The search for Kili continues two days before Fili finally admits aloud what he’s secretly known since the moment he sought out Kili and found the room empty: Kili’s left Ered Luin, this time for good. Thorin had easily found the merchant who’d sold him supplies for a long journey and a pony. Fili’s heart sinks when he hears the news about the pony. With over half a day’s head start and no way to tell which way he’s gone, Kili is well-nigh uncatchable.

          Thorin brings in the scouts to ask if they’ve seen any mysterious dwarves travelling alone. Of course they all say no. Fili’s not surprised. He’d be more astonished if Kili had allowed himself to be sighted. With every day which passes without news, Fili’s heart sinks lower and lower. His chances of finding Kili decrease with every day.

          He searches the woods for hours, hoping against hope that Kili’s merely fled to the forest. Hours are spent screaming his voice hoarse before he finally admits defeat and drags himself home. That night he lays shivering in his bed, fighting and losing the battle against tears while Thorin sits awkwardly on his bed, gently stroking his hair. In any other circumstances he’d feel like a child but now it feels nice that there’s at least someone who cares.

          His dreams don’t help. Whenever he finally slips into the realm of sleep Kili’s face is always there, taunting him. Most of the time Kili just looks sadly at him before he slips away, ignoring Fili’s cries for him to stay. Fili wakes up from those dreams feeling lost and bereft, hand groping and always coming up empty. He clutches the pillow in his hands, remembering a time when Kili’s hair was splayed across it, when Kili’s fingers would grab at the fabric and hold it so hard that Fili can still make out the small rips if he strains his eyes hard enough.

          Worse are the dreams where Kili’s lips are flushed and swollen with the heat of passion, dark eyes sensually gazing at him through a curtain of thick black lashes. Fili wakes from those gasping and needy, his body aching and heart breaking. For a moment he swears that he can taste Kili on his lips, feel the press of flesh underneath his hands. The sensation always fades after a few short seconds, leaving Fili to curl into a tiny ball and shake with the force of loss and grief.

          Life goes on, though merely slogging through the motions proves difficult at best. Many times he’ll be walking down the street and a thought will rise to his mind. Fili will chuckle to himself, knowing that Kili will appreciate it and glance to his side—only to remember that he is alone. The pain which rises from those encounters sears through him, enough to leave him gasping.

          Thorin comes to him one night while Fili lingers at the table after the evening meal, his head pillowed on his arms. For a moment he’s given up the pretense of being strong and he’s just begun to wallow in his own self-pity and misery when his uncle’s soft cough interrupts his spiral into grief.

          “This can’t continue.” Fili doesn’t bother to raise his head to meet Thorin’s eyes. He can guess his uncle’s expression all too well: disappointment that his heir could be as weak as to allow himself to be destroyed by mere emotions. He’s too exhausted to feel shame. He just wants to sleep, wants the impossible: wants to return to the bliss he felt weeks ago when Kili was by his side and he felt invincible.

          “Fili, look at me.” Though Thorin’s voice is gentle there is a hint of steel and Fili obeys. When he meets Thorin’s clear blue eyes he is surprised: instead of the anger and disappointment which he thought would await him there’s only a quiet concern and worry. The lines around Thorin’s mouth are tight and with a start Fili notices thin silver threads running through the ebony of his uncle’s hair. He’s almost positive that they hadn’t been present before Thorin left.

          “Fili…” Thorin’s voice trails off and he sadly shakes his head. Fili evenly returns his gaze and Thorin is the first to look away. “Fili, please hold on. I’m trying everything I can to find him.”

          Fili tries to smile at that because he really does feel gratitude towards Thorin for his attempts to find Kili. His uncle would try anyway, after all it’s one of his nephews that he’s attempting to find, but Fili thinks that Thorin’s efforts have a hint of guilty desperation in them. What he can’t bear to tell Thorin is that he doubts that Kili will be found unless he wants to be—and if Kili wanted to be found all he had to do was remain in bed.

          So many times Fili’s run over that night in his mind, the moments when he flinched from Kili’s gentle touch. He wonders what he could have done differently and he always comes back to the conclusion that he never let Kili know what should have been obvious to both of them: that perhaps they were family, maybe they were lovers, but their bond went deeper than both of those. Fili had thought that Kili had understood that, thought from Kili’s gasped proclamations of need that Kili had felt it as well, the same tilting of the world back onto its proper axis as they rocked to completion. Always, Fili comes back to the thought that he never let Kili know how much he needed him, how much he wanted him.

          “I’ve sent messengers out to the towns in the Blue Mountains,” Thorin says, breaking Fili’s reverie. “They’re to announce the promise of reward for the return of a dwarf youth to Ered Luin.”

          Fili’s brow wrinkles as he tries to decipher Thorin’s purpose. “Is…is that wise? To announce so blatantly what you’re looking for?”

          “They’re not looking for an heir of Durin,” Thorin says with a slight grimace on his face. “They’re looking for the second son of a prominent family who’s run off in search of adventure.”

          Fili ponders this. Close enough to the truth—at least Thorin hadn’t said that they were looking for a thief. If Kili struggled—and it’s a surety in Fili’s mind that he would—Fili’s stomach twists at the thought of the bruises which would appear on Kili’s body. Dwarves do love their justice and are enraged when it looks to be denied to them.

          Another thought comes to him. “What do we have to reward them with? Thorin…” His uncle smiles at him, a hint of melancholy in his upturned lips. “Thorin, you didn’t promise them…” Thorin keeps a handful of trinkets from Erebor hidden away, small ornaments which were on his person when the dragon attacked. These riches are all that the king has left of his mountain and apart from his sword are his most precious possessions.

          Thorin shakes his head and places his hand on Fili’s shoulder. Fili can’t ever remember his uncle’s hand feeling this solid or comforting. “It’s worth it. One day we’ll have our mountain back and those trinkets will be long forgotten…but I would have you standing beside me when we reclaim Erebor.”

          Fili’s heart swells at the words and for the first time in days his lips make a valiant effort to pull upwards. Thorin looks slightly embarrassed at his words but the hand on his shoulder squeezes slightly.

          “We’ll get him back,” Thorin promises and Fili lets himself hold onto the words, tugging them close to his heart.

          _I’ll get him back._

 -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

          Despite the assurances which he’d given Fili the days turn into a week, turn into two. By the time the fifteenth day passes Thorin can tell that Fili’s given up hope as his golden nephew retreats into himself once more. Half the time Fili doesn’t bother to get out of bed. Thorin tries to rouse him but Fili simply sighs and rolls over and he can’t quite bring himself to haul the boy out of his cavern of misery. Besides, Fili hardly eats anymore and Thorin doesn’t know just how long his sister-son would remain upright if he tried to force him to go through the routine of a normal day. He takes to leaving Fili’s door open so he can easily see the form which, more often than not faces away from the door, leaving nothing but golden hair which is swiftly knotting itself into an impossible snarl to assure him that Fili is still with him.

          “Fili, please,” Thorin tries one day as he sits on the edge of Fili’s bed. Fili at least rolls over and looks at him through dull blue eyes. “You have to at least try. Laying here…it’s not doing any good.”

          No expression flits across Fili’s face but after a moment he sits up and pushes the covers off of himself. Thorin winces as his nephew’s back reveals itself to him as Fili shakily totters across the room. Muscles had once bunched across the broad shoulders and now… flesh pulls taut across bone, muscle deteriorated through disuse and lack of nourishment. When Fili finishes dressing himself he looks to Thorin with incurious and apathetic eyes. Thorin nods in approval and swiftly turns around so that Fili won’t see his stricken, pained look.

          Once out of the cottage, instead of exploring his own interests as he’d been wont to do, Fili shuffles behind him, a forlorn and foreboding shadow at his elbow. Many dwarves look at his once shining heir in surprise and not a little trepidation. When they pass Bofur’s tavern, the former miner stares outright at Fili before he looks at Thorin in horror. There is no time to pass words but Thorin wishes that he could tell Bofur that he’s doing everything he can to avoid losing Fili.

          It’s just not enough.

          When they return back to their cottage at sundown Fili immediately withdraws to his chambers without a word. Thorin feels the silence in their house pressing down on him, something which is alive and somehow hungry. He fixes a small dinner for himself and Fili, even though he knows that Fili will most likely refuse any food. Fixing the plate at least makes him feel like he’s trying.

          He _is_ trying, he’s done everything that he can think of besides leading a search party to look for his youngest nephew and there’s no way in Mahal’s name that he can do that. Other than the obvious logistical nightmare of trying to find a dwarf who left no traces of his whereabouts, Thorin has no wish to alert the world to the fact that this one dwarf means so much to him. He still has many enemies, all of whom would be more than happy to use a member of his family. Even though he barely has any knowledge of Kili, Thorin doesn’t doubt that if saw those eyes—his sister’s eyes— looking at him in fear then he would do whatever anyone asked of him. So he sends out the messengers with the news of rewards and he orders his scouts to be on the lookout for any dwarves travelling alone. He even sends emissaries to the villages of Men asking about any solitary Dwarves. He receives no answer.

          And now he thinks that he might be in danger of losing two nephews, for each day that there is no news of Kili it seems that another little piece of Fili withers away. Fili’s once vibrant hair lays lank and limp against his skull. His cheeks are hollowed out until his heir looks more skeleton than a dwarf just crossing the threshold of adulthood. Thorin wishes for Fili’s polite, impassive mask to return—even that would be preferable to this desolate shell.

          It makes it worse to hear Bofur’s stories of how Fili had seemed a different dwarf when Kili was with him. Thorin had thought Bofur was having an ill-judged jape when the tavern owner told him of the copious nights Fili had spent drinking and laughing—always with Kili at his side.

          Balin sits with him one night while he sits up late in his study, perusing through old trade documents. His friend and mentor sets a steaming cup of tea beside him and Thorin thoughtlessly gropes for it. He narrows his eyes when the hot liquid touches his tongue and glares at Balin.

          “You think that I need to be inebriated while working?”

          Balin, may Mahal take him, just shrugs and smiles. “I thought that you could perhaps use something stronger than the usual.”

          Thorin grunts but takes a deep sip of the beverage anyway. The liquor blends easily with the tea and warmth spreads from his stomach throughout his limbs as he drinks. He sets the cup down carefully in the saucer before turning his attention back to his work. “Next time just brew the leaves for longer.”

          Balin chuckles, but the way in which he lingers at Thorin’s elbow lets the king know that his elder still wants something. He chooses to wait for Balin to speak and he doesn’t have long before a quiet cough brings his attention back to his friend.

          “Has there been any news?” Though Balin is not specific, Thorin instantly knows of what he speaks.

          “None,” he admits, his heart settling heavily into his chest. “I would have thought…I would have thought surely that someone would have wished to claim the reward by now…”

          “Perhaps they’ve tried and he’s slipped away,” Balin suggests and Thorin’s quill pauses in scratching out a note. It’s not out of the realm of possibility. From Gloin and Fili’s account he’s come to the conclusion that while lacking the classical training that has always been Fili’s, Kili is more than capable of taking care of himself.

          “Aule, if they didn’t catch him the first time they’ll never get another chance,” Thorin groans. How had he not seen this possibility? He should have known from years of hunting and stalking prey—it had to be subdued on the first try or else it would always be wary in the future. If Kili thought that someone was after him—how many times had the archer slipped through the windows without Thorin’s knowledge? It would be child’s play for him to simply melt out of the town in which he was currently residing.

          “They could be on their way now,” Thorin tries, though he’s not sure who he’s trying to convince. Balin looks less than sure and in his heart Thorin knows that his words are nothing more than leaves fluttering in the wind. Balin, bless him, at least tries to agree, though his smile looks pained and his nod is little more than an unsure jerk of his head.

          “Mahal, but I’m doing everything that I can,” Thorin admits as he clenches his fists. Balin’s eyes are kind and Thorin aches to confess his worries, not only about Kili, wild Kili, wandering through the wilderness of the Blue Mountains, but also about steadfast Fili who seems to wither a little more every day. He bites back his words, forces himself to remain quiet. He hates to bring weakness out so openly—but Balin has already understood his expression and divined his thoughts.

          “What more can I do?” Thorin finds himself asking, the words quiet and defeated.

          Balin’s hand squeezes his shoulder comfortingly but his words leave much to be desired. “Hope? Pray?”

          Since the dragon took their homeland Thorin has done little else.

 -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

          The dream attacks viciously with no warning.

          Fili has grown to love his sleep, to crave it like others crave gold, like a glutton craves a feast, like a drowning man craves the first breath of fresh air. Sleep rids him of his own company for a time, saves him from the worried looks of his uncle and friends, and allows him to see what he craves most—Kili, only Kili.

          Tonight is no different—his eyes close as his body relaxes and within a few moments that beloved face swims into view. Fili knows that it is a dream, knows it and still breathes out his name— _“Kili.”_

          Kili turns to him as he always does, except this time instead of the usual smile he greets Fili with a look bordering on anger. In his dream Fili takes an uncertain step backwards as alarm weakly begins to pulse through his subconscious.

          “What have you done?” Fili startles because in his dreams Kili never speaks. He almost reaches down to pinch himself just to make sure he’s still asleep but he stops himself just in time. From the hazy lines around the edges of his vision and the way that Kili suddenly appears directly in front of him—he has to be dreaming. Kili speaks again and his voice becomes sharp with impatience. “What have you done?”

          “I…I haven’t done anything,” Fili stammers. Kili circles him, intense dark eyes drinking in the sight of him.

          “I know,” Kili finally says, and the hard edge fades from his voice, though he keeps his aggressive stance. “You haven’t done anything.”

          His words strike a chord within Fili and he thinks of the long days spent curled in bed, tangled around a wad of blankets, sometimes even going so far as to try to fool himself that it was Kili’s body pressed up against him…The meals refused, the inability to do something so simple as braid his own hair…all of the steps Thorin has taken to find Kili and… _He hasn’t done anything._

          Fili stutters out something but stops when he sees Kili’s face. Once more Kili just looks sad, lost, abandoned…”I’m sorry Fili,” Kili says as he turns away. “I’m sorry, but you haven’t done anything.”

          Fili roars in denial as Kili fades, the outlines of his body becoming blurry before it dissipates completely. The sound vanishes before it ever has a chance to resonate and Fili is left alone again. Bitter tears clog his throat and refuse to fall as Fili realizes that he is always going to be alone, even in his dreams.

          In his sleep Fili whimpers as he rolls to his side, face contorted in pain. His hands clench the blankets as his body curls tighter into itself. Moonlight from the open window illuminates the look of slow horror which spreads over his face as his dream deepens and takes complete possession of him.

          In his dream Fili sprints through a pitch black environment. Sporadic flashes of light do little more than disturb his already disoriented sense of placement until he is more stumbling than running. Screams echo around him, all of them terrified and pain-filled. Fili tries to move towards them but he has no idea from where they’re coming.

          “Stop!” he yells, but his voice becomes absorbed into the screams until it echoes cruelly back at him, making him drop to his knees with his hands pressed over his ears. “Please, just stop!”

          Abruptly, all the sounds stop as one voice rips through the shadow, piercing Fili’s chest and freezing his heart _because he knows this voice._ Though it’s almost warped beyond recognition, he can still recognize the timbre of Kili’s voice as it howls in pain and fear. Fili pushes himself to his feet as he throws himself forward, feet tripping over each other as he run towards the horrific echoes. Kili’s voice pounds against his mind, the horror and agony taunting him as his scream sounds again.

          His breath sobs out of him as a faint light appears far away. Fili moves towards it, stumbling and righting himself until he finally comes close enough to see what the light illuminates. Once he finally comprehends what he sees, Fili roars in futile denial.

          It’s Kili, _his_ Kili, lying on his back with his eyes open and face frozen into an expression of terror. The bowman’s face is pale as his chest violently heaves with every breath. Though Fili wants nothing more than rush to his side, he is kept frozen in place as he helplessly fights against the constraints which are put on him.  

          “Kili!” he cries, but the sounds don’t seem to reach the archer as he claws helplessly at the ground. _“Kili!”_

          Shadows fall upon Kili’s body, each taller and more threatening than the last. They obscure his vision of Kili, though the whimpers and curses which fall from his brother’s lips tell Fili more than he wants to know of what’s happening. Inwardly, Fili rages and snarls as more shadows surround Kili, reaching down to touch him, to _hurt_ him…

          “Kili!” he screams, hoping beyond hope that it will tell Kili that he’s here, that he hasn’t abandoned him, that he’ll always be there…but no sound splits the night except for Kili’s panting breaths and one short, sharp cry.

          Fili cannot do anything but he wants to, wants to fling himself down on these fiends who dared to touch Kili, who dared to make him scream, who made him afraid…Had he a voice he would have screamed himself hoarse by now. Instead, he just watches as the shadows steadily engulf Kili, hiding more and more of him from view.

          Kili’s head lolls to the side and Fili’s heart freezes in hope when his chocolate eyes finally latch upon him and widen in recognition. “Fili?” he asks, hope flickering faintly underneath the fear. Fili’s heart swells and he opens his mouth to respond, just as the darkness takes over Kili completely, leaving nothing but the shriek of _“FILI!”_    

         

          Fili gasps as he hurtles into consciousness, blankets tangled around his body in a sweaty clump. On reflex, his eyes search the darkness of his room for assailants even though he knows that it’s not him in danger. He tries to calm his breathing but his body refuses to settle, pulse and mind agreeing on the need to move, now, go, _now._

          Obeying the insistent call within his blood, Fili throws himself out of bed, barely pausing to light a candle. He fumbles around in his drawers for a spare change of clothes before he seizes a small pack lying the floor. Memories of trips with Thorin come back to him as he runs through a hastily assembled list in his mind. He’ll need a hunting knife, tinderbox, blanket, some spare provisions in case he can’t catch anything, rope…

          “What in Mahal’s name are you doing?” Fili barely deigns to glance over his shoulder at Thorin’s sleep-rumpled frame leaning in his doorway. “It’s the middle of the night, why are you—“His uncle pauses for a moment as he fully absorbs the sudden chaos of Fili’s meticulously organized bedroom. “Fili, why are you packing?” At the iron tone in his uncle’s voice Fili turns around.

          “It’s Kili,” he says without any preamble. “I have to go and look for him.” As he says the words aloud a piece of him which had been discordant effortlessly slips back into place. Even if he hadn’t known before, he knows now—this was what he was supposed to be doing all along. How much time has he wasted—how much of _Kili’s_ time has he wasted lingering in self-pity?

          Without thinking Fili tries to shove past his uncle but he’s stopped by the firm hand in the center of his chest which pushes him backwards. Though Thorin’s voice is kind it also brooks no disagreement. “Fili, you haven’t had time to think this through; that much is obvious. Just stop for a moment and be reasonable.”

          “No!” Fili snarls as he pulls violently away. For a moment he forgets himself, forgets everything—that Thorin is his uncle, that he’s done much and more to help find Kili, even that he’s been in awe of his dwarf since he was a small child. In that second Thorin is simply an obstacle to his finding Kili.

          That moment ends when Thorin stiffens and draws himself up to his full, considerable height. He doesn’t even have to say anything—the look in his eyes is enough to briefly halt Fili’s frantic rampage. It doesn’t diminish the desire to leave however, something that he _has_ to make abundantly clear to Thorin.

          “It’s…” He pauses as he tries to find the best way to explain what’s happened and, lacking any other story, just decides to go with the truth. “I had a dream,” and he could swear that Thorin blanches.

          “I had a dream before Kili ever came to Ered Luin,” Fili continues after a moment. “I’d never seen him before in my life, never seen anyone who looked like him, but it was _him_ Thorin, down to the clothes he was wearing. The next morning…” Fili pauses at the look of shock on Thorin’s face, and strangely enough… _hope?_ He swallows and continues. “The next morning, I saw Kili. Uncle…I know it sounds mad but trust me, I know he’s in trouble, I _know_ it.”

          Fili faces Thorin steadily after he finishes. Any hint of hesitation now and Thorin will simply dismiss this as a brief craze, yet another phase in his violent grieving. As his uncle’s eyes assess him Fili wants to quiver, wants to blink but he holds himself steady with the thought of Kili’s eyes meeting his, the blind terror held within the face which should have been laughing…

          Thorin rubs the bridge of his nose and Fili recognizes the signs of Thorin’s resolve wavering. He doesn’t rejoice however, fearing that any sudden movement will bring an instant reversal of his fortunes. “This is madness,” his uncle finally grits out. “There is no foresight amongst Durin’s race, of this I am certain.”

          “It was him uncle,” Fili insists. “Right to the quiver on his back, it was him.” Thorin still looks uncertain and Fili breaks just a little. “Please…he needs me, I know it…”

          “How do you plan on finding him?” Thorin asks, his brutal honesty slicing through Fili as nothing else could. “How do you plan on locating him when even my best trackers and scouts could not?”

          “I…I know him, I’ll know where to look, I know where he’ll go—“

          “You know nothing.” Thorin’s voice is like the sound of a rockslide, a giant boulder falling heavily to the ground. “You have a fool’s hope and nothing more.”

          The expression on Thorin’s face is the same as when Fili was a child and he’d done somewhat to displease his uncle, whether it be inattention during a lesson or failing to remember the basic steps of a simple form. The furrowed brows and severe frown had always been enough to cow him and send him scurrying off to improve himself in hopes of gaining the rare lift of the corners of Thorin’s mouth. But now it is the smile of another which he wishes to see, even more than he desires Thorin’s happiness. Fili bids the remnants of his childhood farewell and a wistful melancholy seeps through him, even as he squares his shoulders and plants his feet.

          “I will find him, even if I have to search the whole of Middle-Earth for him. And,” Fili licks dry lips before he pushes past the fluttering anxiety sparked by rebellion, “I will find him with or without your blessing.” Thorin’s eyebrows raise impossibly high as he surveys his suddenly disobedient heir with incredulous, hurt eyes. With conscious effort, Fili forces his feet to remain still and his shoulders to keep from slouching in submission. The seconds tick on and Fili’s heart pounds uncomfortably underneath the oppressing weight of Thorin’s stare.

          “Dwalin will accompany you.” Fili opens his mouth to protest but Thorin cuts him off with a sharp gesture. “You are venturing into the wilderness on a mad goose chase. Do not ask me to send you out unprotected. I will not lose two nephews.” His face has taken on a grayish, sickly tinge.

          Fili bites his lip as he nods in acceptance of the terms. He’s less than thrilled about having a minder and he suspects that Dwalin will be more than a little resentful but the pained look on Thorin’s face makes him shrivel inwardly.

          “I wouldn’t ask this if I didn’t feel that it was necessary,” Fili tells him, hoping that this admittance will ease the burn of the guilt eating its way through him. Thorin gazes wistfully at him and Fili thinks that for Thorin letting go is as difficult as breaking free is for him. “Please trust me.”

          Thorin doesn’t say anything. Instead he just steps forward and pulls Fili into a hard, one-armed hug before releasing him. Then he turns to inspect his pack, nodding at some items and wrinkling his brow at others.

          “You’ll want to pack extra socks,” Thorin says, and to Fili’s amazement his uncle’s lips ruefully quirk upwards. “Never underestimate how many socks you’ll need.”

          And despite the seriousness of the moment, despite the pulsing fear which still lurks within him, Fili smiles back. Purpose in mind, his body feels stronger already as he rearranges his bag. Dawn cannot come soon enough.

          _Hold on Kili, love,_ he thinks as he stares at the glittering stars. _I’m coming for you._

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_- 

 

          Kili sits in a dark corner of the tavern which hopefully hides him from view. When he entered he felt the blatant stares which landed on his back and heard the hushed whispers as he ordered and sat. He would go elsewhere, but this town’s so tiny that it only has the one alehouse. He could also go without drink but that would just mean sneaking upstairs into his painfully tiny room and staring at the tiny mildew spots on the ceiling until he sinks into a fitful sleep. No, ale, even piss-ale like the kind they serve here, is better than tossing and turning in a cold bed.

          He quaffs his drink swiftly, wanting to feel the yeasty beverage slide down his throat, looking forward to the slight swimming of his senses. He finishes off the mug with a few deep gulps and strides to the bar to retrieve another. When he tries to return to his table however, his path is blocked by the same group of dwarves who were giving him looks earlier.

          Unease sparks in his gut and his gaze automatically drops to their belts. He’s greeted by the sight of knives, several mallets and a single throwing ax—and all of his weapons are safely tucked away under lock and key in his room. He glances towards the door, hoping that the group doesn’t note his hesitation.

          “What do you think?” The speaker is a dwarf a few inches shorter than him, with his beard split into four separate plaits. “Think that this is the one?”

          “Certainly matches the description,” another one with darker hair grunts. “Damn long walk to Ered Luin if it’s not him though.”

          Kili’s eyes dart back and forth between the four of them. He has no idea what they’re talking about but the mention of Ered Luin convinces him that he needs to be elsewhere.

          “Fuck off,” he says. The words come out with less bite than he would like and the first speaker just snickers.

          “No, I think that this is the one lads.” He turns his full attention on Kili, who forces a hard swallow down a dry throat. The last time he fought four at one time it ended poorly for him and these dwarves are infinitely less drunk and look considerably more organized.

          “Keep your hands off me,” he snaps as one reaches out for him. He takes a step backwards, careful to keep all of them within his line of vision. “I don’t know what you sons of whores want but leave me out of it.”

          “Filthy mouth,” the black haired dwarf mutters. “If we have to put up with that the whole trip I’ll just gag him.” The dwarf Kili thinks of as their leader just nods.

          “Stay away from me!” Kili insists as the four draw closer. “I swear that I’ll cut through all of you.” They don’t have to know that he doesn’t have so much as a butter knife on him.

          “Now lad, easy now,” the leader soothes, though the gleam in his eyes does nothing to calm Kili. “We’re just taking you home.”

          “Fuck you,” Kili spits. The four start to spread out, making it harder for him to keep his eyes on the whole group. “You’re damn fools if you think I’m going anywhere with you.”

          “You don’t have a choice lad,” the leader says, almost kindly, even as his fingers twitch towards the hammer which rests against his hip.

          Within the blink of an eye the four are on top of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SLIGHTLY less angsty.


	20. How Far Can we Run Before we Lose Each Other?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili's search and Kili's seizure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dothraki is NOT a lazy bastard.
> 
> Not today at least.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy a short, extra plotty, not quite angsty chapter. Don't worry, angst will be back in due time.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

          Fili was correct in assuming that Dwalin was less than happy with his assigned task of Durin-sitting, but the grizzled warrior says nothing as they mount their ponies and set out just after the dawn. He wonders how much yelling occurred before Dwalin finally acquiesced to Thorin but after he glances at the frowning tattooed face he suddenly realizes that he doesn’t want to know. They continue on in silence with only the occasional breeze breaking up the swiftly building heat to distract them. Sweat steadily beads on the back of Fili’s neck and runs down his back but he refuses to wiggle in discomfort.

          “So how exactly are we supposed to find him?” Dwalin growls, his gruff voice shattering the tense silence. “Your uncle said that you would know how to.”

          Fili does shift his weight at that. If explaining to Thorin was difficult then trying to make Dwalin understand will be impossible. He can already imagine the look on Dwalin’s face when he tells him that a dream is the reason that they’ve set out on this journey.

          “I just…I’ll know when we get closer,” Fili settles, knowing that his explanation is less than satisfactory. It does skirt towards the truth however—by some measure that he cannot fully understand himself he knows that the direction they are headed towards is _right,_ the same way that he knows that drinking water and breathing air is right.

          Dwalin grunts. From the scowl on his face he’s obviously displeased by Fili’s meager offering. After a few moments his gruff faces smoothes and he glances over at Fili. “Good to see you finally moving,” he acknowledges.

          Fili nods and ducks his face down into the fur collar of his coat. Dwalin’s praise means much to him, it always has, but there’s still the reminder that he spent far too long mired in his own indulgent pity.

          “I’m sorry lad.” Dwalin’s apology jerks Fili out of his spiraling thoughts and he stares in confusion at the warrior. Dwalin does not meet his eyes but instead stares at the road in front of him.

          “What…why?” Fili finishes stupidly.

          “I should have told you somewhere along the way but I didn’t,” Dwalin continues. He looks to Fili and the young heir startles at the guilt in those old eyes. “You have to understand, we all thought that it was the only way. Even your mother thought that it was the best way to keep you both safe—though she fought us like a wildcat when we took you.”

          Fili feels a strange twisting and clenching of his heart as Dwalin speaks. How is possible that he doesn’t recall his mother fighting to keep hold of him? He tries to force the memories to the forefront of his mind. Blood and screams splash across the canvas of his mind and Fili shakily pulls himself back to the present.

          “If I’d thought there was another way I’d never have let them separate you,” Dwalin finishes gruffly.

          “What…what were they like? My parents,” Fili clarifies. His heart beats faster as he waits for Dwalin’s answer. He’s never asked the question, too spooked by Thorin’s violent reactions to venture further into the mystery of his orphaning.

          Dwalin pauses and thinks. “They were…your mother was the fieriest lass I knew. Your uncle Frerin…she knocked him on his arse more times than I could count when they were dwarrows and even your uncle Thorin was wary of her when she was in a temper.”

          Fili smiles at the image of the laughing woman of his dreams yelling over a cowering Thorin. In his mind she looks like Kili, with the same hair and eyes and instead of recoiling in horror his heart swells and expands at the thought of this, a shared heritage.

          “Your father…” Dwalin pauses as a fond smile spreads across his face. “Only Dwarf I ever knew that could drink me under the table and still be at his forge the next morning. Loved any good jape your father did—the trouble that he and your mother got into when they were little…” A melancholy tint adds itself to Dwalin’s smile. “He was a good friend.”

          “I wish I could have known him,” Fili quietly mentions. For the first time in his life he feels as though he’s missing something.

          “Aye, me too lad,” Dwalin murmurs. “Me too.”

          The silence which follows them is contemplative and tinged with sorrow but it feels more comfortable than the suffocating quiet which plagued them before. Fili wonders again how much poking and prodding Thorin had to do in order to persuade Dwalin to accompany him—maybe it wasn’t as much as he’d originally thought.

 -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

          It’s strange, how much larger his cottage seems when he’s the only inhabitant. When Fili was little more than a toddler it seemed that the house was bursting at the seams with trying to hold an exuberant youth. As Fili calmed and matured the cottage breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed outwards. And now that Fili’s gone, on a quest which Thorin doesn’t wholly understand, the small rooms seem practically cavernous. His footsteps practically echo in the sitting room and the corners appear dark and foreboding as they never have before.

          He’s being ridiculous of course. It’s only his own misgivings which give him the vague feeling of unease. Thorin paces in front of the hearth, wearing a familiar path in the floor. The movements do nothing to calm his mind and he reaches inside his vest for his pipe, tossing his struck match into the fire.

          Now that Fili’s gone he’s starting to regret his decision to let his heir go hunting. Fili was still weak from his inactivity and his nephew hasn’t trained rigorously in weeks. Had it been anyone else asking he never would have allowed them to leave in anything else than optimum fighting condition. But it had been Fili, Fili who had finally showed a spark, Fili whose back had been so straight when he calmly defied his orders—Thorin had seen the stubborn set to Fili’s jaw, the jut which reminded him so much of Frerin when his younger brother had gotten a particular idea in his mind. He’d known then that even if he had forbidden Fili to leave that his eldest nephew would just slip away when his attention was turned elsewhere. He doesn’t think that he could bear waking up to yet another open window, another set of curtains fluttering forlornly in the early morning.

          Thorin rubs the bridge of his nose as he hisses in dissatisfaction. He hates feeling powerless, hates it almost as much as he hates the dragon which made him powerless. He wants the ability to make his family happy, wants to cure Erebor’s ails with one fell swoop, wants the power of the Maker to right all of the wrongs done to his people. But instead he’s stuck in this wooden cottage, staring at a fire which is beginning to gutter out, while his nephews wander the wilderness. And even if they manage to find each other, there’s still not a happy ending waiting for either.

 

          _The sun was just barely hinting at light when Thorin knocked on the door to Dwalin’s humble abode. He waited for a brief moment before his knuckles rapped on the door again. He heard the faint sounds of stirring from within before the door was yanked back and he was confronted with a very irate tattooed face._

_“Unless there’s a warg pack attacking the town I like to be left to finish a night’s sleep,” the warrior snarled, though he did not slam the door in Thorin’s face._

_“I have a favor to ask,” Thorin calmly stated, ignoring Dwalin’s snarls. His friend had never been a morning dwarf, less so when he was awoken from a sound sleep before sunrise._

_An unintelligible grunt is his answer and Thorin hadn’t expected more. “I need you to accompany Fili on a journey.”_

_That was enough to make Dwalin stop glaring and look curiously at him. “And where might the lad be going?”_

_Thorin paused. “He…he’s going to go find Kili.” He looked up at Dwalin’s face, expecting anything but the slightly pleased look._

_“Good.” Dwalin raised an eyebrow at Thorin’s disbelieving expression. “What, you’d prefer him the way that he was?”_

_“No, Mahal’s beard,” Thorin immediately answered. “But I wouldn’t have him dashing off unprepared into the wild. It was all I could do to make him wait until dawn.”_

_Dwalin grunted in acknowledgement of his words and Thorin felt oddly irritated that his friend wasn’t more distressed by this news. Dwalin noticed his disgruntled expression and barked out a laugh._

_“You want me to be sad that the lad’s finally grown a set of balls? I’ll go with him, don’t worry about that.”_

_“Thank you—“ Thorin began before Dwalin cut him off with a wave of his brawny hand._

_“Not doing it for you. I reckon that after all we put those two for we owe them more than a little debt.” Dwalin insolently stared at him, daring him to object, and hadn’t he thought exactly the same earlier? It’s different now though, the difference between beginning to acknowledge his own faults and having his oldest friend throw them in his face._

         

          The firm knock on the door is a welcome distraction to his increasingly dark thoughts. Though, when he opens the door, Thorin’s first impulse is to close it again. Instead he restrains that childish impulse and instead greets the healer standing before him. “Mahir. What brings you this evening?”

          In truth, Mahir’s presence makes him unaccountably nervous. He knows that the work which Mahir performs is noble and necessary but it doesn’t mean that he has to embrace it. He visited the House once—once was enough for him. He saw the detached expression on one of the residents and immediately he was back in the treasury of Erebor, trying to regain his grandfather’s attention when he had the same look in his eyes. Thorin had managed to avoid running away but it had left him unsettled for a long time afterwards. Since then he has always delegated the admittedly minimal requests of the Healing House to Balin and hardly thought on the residence.

          “Truthfully, I’d thought to speak to your heir, m’lord,” Mahir tells him as he enters the cottage. “Where might I find him?”

          “Fili is…he’s on business,” Thorin finally says. Mahir’s somber expression and reluctance to speak lead to Thorin’s heart pounding. “Whatever you were going to say to him can be said to me, in fact it should be said to me.”

          Mahir looks at him, considering, and Thorin draws himself up to his full height. The healer remains unaffected by his posturing but Thorin clings to his ramrod straight posture as a comfort—at least he can control this one small facet of his life.

          “Several weeks ago I summoned Fili to talk about a certain resident in the House. It was Fili who had suggested that he be brought to us in the first place—and it was well done, the dwarf in question was raving and had obviously taken leave of his senses.” With considerable effort Thorin restrains the shudder which runs through his body, though Mahir does look shrewdly at him.

          “It was your nephew which consumed the majority of this dwarf’s rants.” Thorin draws in a sharp breath as he feels his body sway slightly. “I thought nothing much of it, other than to ask Fili the reasons why. It seemed no harm as long as he was under our care.”

          “And now?” Thorin asks, his voice rough.

          “I do not know where he is.” Mahir looks him straight in the eyes and though his eyes hold a great deal of guilt there is still pride lingering in the thin lines stretching from their corners. “This afternoon he attacked one of my assistants and left the man unconscious before he disappeared. We’ve searched but have found nothing and I thought…under the circumstances…”

          “Fili,” Thorin breathes, understanding perfectly what Mahir is so delicately phrasing. “He’s not here.”

          “That is probably for the best. I don’t doubt that we’ll find him soon—he was quite single-minded in his aims and once he finds that the object of his obsession has vanished I don’t think that he’ll have much of a purpose.”

          “I will give you the loan of some of the guards so that your search will be shorter.” It sounds like an offer but in truth it’s a command. Never mind that Fili isn’t here, never mind all of Mahir’s assurances—the set of the healer’s shoulders, the carefully guarded expression of his face and the slight hesitation when he talks about this dwarf’s obsession with Fili—it all tells Thorin much more than he wants to know.

          “Thank you, m’lord.” Mahir wisely does not try to fight his offer and with a bow the healer turns to leave. He hesitates at the door and looks at Thorin. A kindness hovers about him, though in his rage Thorin wants nothing more than to shake the healer and rage at him. How could someone who was supposed to dedicated to life, to protecting well-being allow something to potentially harm his brilliant golden heir?

          “We will find him,” the healer promises and Thorin starts as he hears an echo of his own words to Fili. After he closes the door he grips the wood of the jamb tightly as he fights the rage and fear which thunder through his body.

          Fili is gone, he comforts himself. Wherever the lunatic is, his nephew is well out of his reach.

          He only hopes that Mahir is more capable of keeping promises than himself.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-         

 

Days continue in their fruitless search. The roads are remarkably clear for early summer—they pass by a few merchants with heavy-laden wagons, two travelling Men who look like they might be minstrels or players and four dwarves travelling together with a covered wagon. When they passed Fili’s stomach lurched curiously and for a moment he wanted nothing more than to spring upon them and tear through their wagon. He shook his head violently to rid himself of the thought, though the nagging desire refused to fade completely. Instead it simply lingered at the back of his mind, gnawing tediously at him. Dwalin looked curiously at him but Fili did not meet his gaze.

          Still troubled by his sudden irrational impulses, Fili manages to miss the sign for the nearest town and it’s a surprise to him when the small walls become visible over the hill. He surveys them carefully before his heart sinks. “He’s not here,” Fili tells Dwalin, who merely raises an eyebrow. After the first two towns Dwalin had stopped commenting and simply accepted Fili’s assessment of the situation.

          “That may be the case but it’s going to be night soon enough. I’d rather spend it with some form of a bed and some decent mead.” Fili can’t argue the logic in Dwalin’s statement and so he follows the warrior in through the gates of the village.

          It’s nowhere near the size of Ered Luin. This small village of Men is little more than a few streets cobbled together. There’s only one inn in the whole town, a little ramshackle place which looks like it’s seen much better days—an impression only furthered by the fact that the one front window is shabbily boarded up.

          “Good luck finding good mead here,” Fili mutters as he dismounts and hands his pony’s reins to a waiting stableboy. Dwalin growls before he pushes the door open.

          The inside looks much the same as the outside—like a veritable hurricane has just passed through. Though there’s been some attempts at cleaning up debris still litters the floor and several tables and chairs have chunks missing out of the wood. The bar still stands however, and Dwalin strides up to it. He barely has to incline his head to see over the counter.

          The barman takes a moment to notice the tattooed face glaring at him but when he does his reaction is instantaneous, so much to the point that it startles even Dwalin. “No! I’ll have no more dwarves in my inn! Get out!” He points with rather more vehemence than is necessary towards the door. When neither of them move the man gestures wildly. “Get out, troublemakers!”

          “Watch your tongue laddie,” Dwalin growls, low and dangerous. Fili quickly steps in before his uncle’s friend causes an incident.

          “We’re not looking for any trouble,” he soothes, hands held open in what he hopes is a pacifying gesture. “We just want a room for the night.”

          “Aye, that’s all the first ones wanted and now look at this!” Another frantic gesture is made towards the mess of the main room. “My treasure, torn to pieces!”

          “It don’t look quite as fine as you make it out to be,” Dwalin comments and Fili shoots him a dirty look.

          “I’m sorry about the state of your inn but we have nothing to do with any other Dwarves. We merely wish to stay here for one night. In the morning we’ll be gone.”

          The barman finally nods, his wild eyes calming. “I suppose that it can’t do much harm, just for the one night.” Fili looks down to dig his coin purse out of his deep pockets but he still listens to the man’s musings. “After all, the reward’s already been claimed so what harm could it do?”

          Fili’s blood freezes at the mention of the word ‘reward’ and beside him he can feel Dwalin stiffen. The warrior recovers his composure first. “What’s this about a reward then?”

          The barman looks down at them with renewed suspicion. “It’s already been claimed so don’t even worry about it,” he sniffs. “Those idiots tore up half my tavern to get the little beast calmed and do you think that I’ll ever see a penny in apology? Not bloody likely!”

          “What…what was the situation?” Fili asks, heart beating impossibly fast.

          “Oh they were all on about some huge reward offered by some dwarf family in Ered Luin. Seems their brat had run off and found himself here in my shop and they felt entitled to just demolish everything in their path to reach him.”

          The barkeep prattles on but Fili doesn’t pay him any mind now that he has the answers he seeks. His mind whirls madly, spinning in violently swift circles until it lights on the conclusion he should have come to hours ago. He looks at Dwalin, who is still glaring at the man.

          “The wagon,” Fili whispers, eyes widening in realization. “He was in the wagon.” Dwalin turns his attention to him, eyebrow raising in puzzlement. Fili reaches out and grabs the warrior’s brawny forearm, practically shaking it in his sudden terrorized epiphany. “We passed them on the road earlier today…I thought there was something strange but I didn’t think anything of it—Dwalin, we passed him today, they’re headed back to Ered Luin right now!”

          “I told you, they’ve already got him so it’s no use lingering around here!” The man’s voice is shrill again—no doubt all the talk about finding and hunting has excited him again. “You dwarves, just looking for your gold and never paying heed to those who have to suffer—at least I have what the little monster left behind. Some of it should make a pretty penny.”

          Fili freezes and slowly turns to the barman. It’s not really his fault, the rational part of his mind knows that, but he can’t help but feel hatred for anyone who touches Kili’s possessions. “You still have his things?” Fili asks. The man must sense the change in his tone from the way which he draws himself up to his full height, like it’s supposed to impress Fili.

          “Don’t you even think about it,” he pompously says. “Those little trinkets are now mine. I deserve some form of compensation for all my troubles, though I doubt it’ll be enough to fix everything.”

          “Look, I’ll pay whatever you want for them—“Fili is about to throw all of the coins on the counter before Dwalin grabs his wrist.

          “How about we work out a deal laddie?” Though an idiot could mistake the tone in Dwalin’s voice for friendly Fili hears the note of dangerous amusement. Knuckle-dusters clink threateningly on the scarred wood of the bar and the man actually has the good sense to look a little intimidated. “You’ll give us whatever this boy left and then we’ll leave.”

          “And if I don’t?” The barkeep’s voice actually quivers a little bit.

          Dwalin’s smile is positively evil. “Then we’ll finish what the little monster started and tear this shitty excuse for an inn down to its foundations and in the end we’ll still take those little trinkets which you wanted to hold onto.”

          The barkeep hardly has to think for a moment. “They’re in the back room, one moment while I go get them.”

          Dwalin watches the man leave, a look of smug satisfaction on his face. He turns to Fili and confides, “Never waste good coin when you can get what you want without it.”

          Fili watches the door which the man disappeared into, his mouth dry as impatience starts to prickle along his body. He needs to go, needs to get Kili because the lurking ominous feeling has only grown since he heard the tavern owner’s story. After what seems like hours, the innkeeper returns with a familiar bundle held in his arms. Fili snatches the bow, quiver, and sword out of his arms, his fingertips tracing over the very end of the bow. If there had been any doubt in his mind it’s disappeared—his eyes recognize the sigil traced into the pommel of the sword and his grip tightens on the weapons until his knuckles turn white.

          He turns and walks out of the door towards the stables. Without a word he yanks his tack back from the hapless stableboy and places his saddle back on his freshly brushed pony. The animal gives him a mournful look but Fili pushes the guilt to the back of his mind as he cinches his saddle.

          “They aren’t more than a few hours ahead of us,” Fili thinks aloud as Dwalin’s shadow falls over him. “If we ride hard enough then we should be able to catch them by sunrise.”

          “The ponies could use a rest,” Dwalin notes, his tone carefully blank. Fili looks at him with some surprise—Dwalin will use the same voice with his uncle whenever he doesn’t quite agree with one of Thorin’s ideas.

          “He might have been taken by those who were intent on the reward but he’s still in danger,” Fili answers. His voice is clipped and terse and he must sound ridiculous to Dwalin but even as he fastens Kili’s weapons to his saddle the nervous hum in the back of his mind increases until everything else fades. Kili’s scream echoes through his mind, the pain and terror held within the shriek hurting as much as if the sound were torn from his own throat.

          “If you’re sure.” Dwalin’s easy acceptance startles Fili but he’s not about to fight against it, not when his very fingertips ache with the desire to be gone, to move forward…The pulsing signal in his blood only grows stronger when he mounts and turns his pony towards the open road. It pulls him forward and Fili follows, trusting his instincts to lead him.

         

 -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

          He might have been in worse situations but he’s hard-pressed to think of one. The afternoon sunlight is merciless as it beats through the canvas covering on the wagon, the heat within soon building up to furnace status. Sweat beads on his forehead, dripping irritatingly down his face. It wouldn’t be so bad if his hands were free to wipe it off but…

          Kili jerks again at his bonds. He’d almost made it the last time—if only he hadn’t turned to toss off an insult. The rock had come up out of nowhere and he’d fallen flat on his face. It had been just enough time for those bastards to be on top of him and the way they had him trussed up now it was doubtful that he’d get another chance to make a break for it.

          They had his arms bound at the wrists and secured to one of the wagon bows. His legs were tied at the ankles and worst of all, they’d forced a filthy gag in his mouth after they’d finally grown tired of his hurling curses towards them.

          “That reward had better be worth every ounce of trouble you’re putting us through, you little shit,” Black Beard had growled at him as he barely evaded Kili’s snapping teeth. The heavy cuff to the side of his head left Kili dazed long enough for the cloth to be shoved into his mouth and tied off. After that he could only glare daggers at Black Beard Bastard, who just smirked at him.

          Kili’s fingers scrabble uselessly at the ropes yet again. He doesn’t expect to find anything different but he still has to try or else go mad. The continuous monotony of the swaying wagon, with not even the sound of his own voice to distract him proves trying.

          There had been only one break in the drudge of his day and Kili had no idea why it had occurred. There had been a moment where, without warning, his innards had _churned_ and he had thrashed on the wood of the wagon in a desperate attempt to free himself. He had no idea why he had been so suddenly overcome but he couldn’t fight the desire. He had tugged mercilessly on the rope binding his wrists until his skin was rubbed raw and had screamed around his gag until spittle dribbled out of the corner of his mouth. The feeling had eventually subsided, leaving him bereft and yearning, as though the most important part of him was walking away.

He thinks he’s made it abundantly clear that he doesn’t want to return to Ered Luin. His captors have no idea why he fights them so—after all he would be returning to prosperity and gold is all that they can understand. They can’t fathom not wanting to return to a place which holds only desolation, especially when despair has replaced the bliss he should have found there.

          A groan of relief escapes around the gag as he feels the wagon lurch to a stop. Quite apart from everything else he desperately needs to piss. Maybe in that brief moment he can make another run for it—freedom is always preferable, even if it means having to sprint away with his dick out. He expects to see an unfriendly face popping into the wagon at any moment, so when none is forthcoming and instead he hears the low murmur of voices a small tendril of foreboding snakes through him. Kili strains his ears but can make out no distinct words, only the sound of agitated voices rising.

          The cover of the wagon is finally thrown back and Kili pulls back. The Brown Beard climbs in and swiftly severs his rope from the wagon bow, still leaving his wrists bound. An unfeeling tug pulls him to his knees and Kili struggles to push himself to his feet. Quite apart from the humiliation of having these dwarves see him fall on his face, there still exists the urge to run, stronger now than ever before. He doesn’t know what waits for him outside the wagon but instinct tells him that it’s nothing he wants.

          Kili falls heavily to the ground, bound feet unable to make the journey down. His shoulder takes the brunt of the fall and he tries to catch his breath before his bonds are yanked mercilessly. His eyes search the swiftly falling dusk and when they light on a certain figure he freezes as cold fear slices through his body.

          _Not you,_ he would say if he could speak. _Not you, how did you get here, no, please…_

          “Thank you gentlemen, I think this concludes our business,” Mim says as his hand closes around the rope. He looks down at Kili and the archer can see the sick gleam of madness shining brighter than ever before.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-      


	21. Hopelessness is Sinking In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Altercation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a short chapter but I REALLY wanted to get this out...
> 
> As you've probably already been able to guess we're careening towards the end here...But I'll still try to give you guys a good ride <3

In any other circumstance Fili would stop another dwarf from pushing their pony as relentlessly as he pushes his own mount. Even in his frenzy he still feels guilty for pounding his heels into the animal’s sides, urging her to go just a little faster, just a little further. His pony canters on, valiant heart reaching down into reserves of strength as she surges forward. Flecks of lather coat his saddle and reins but Fili pushes the self-reproach to the back of his mind. There will be plenty of time for that when he finally reaches Kili.

          He’s close: his certainty strengthens the further he and Dwalin travel down the road. The burly warrior’s pony lags behind his, no doubt because of the greater burden which his uncle’s friend poses. Fili can still hear the steady pound of hoofbeats behind him however, and so he does not pause as his eyes scan the road ahead, their way lit only by the waxing moon.

          Just when his pony’s steps have started to falter he sees the moonlight glancing off of the wagon’s covering. “Ahead!” he calls to Dwalin, the wind tearing the words out of his throat. His pony canters forward a few more steps before her will finally breaks and she slows into a bouncy trot. Fili flings himself from the saddle and sprints towards the wagon the moment his feet hit the ground.

          “Kili!” he roars and when did one of his swords end up in his hand? Faces appear before him, all of them angry and shouting but Fili has a sole purpose in his mind and he will not be deterred by anything less than Mahal himself. He throws open the covering on the wagon and—

          Nothing.

          Fili stares in disbelief at the few trinkets littering the wagon—some rope, a few bits of pottery, some straw—no Kili, where is Kili, what have they done with him? Hands yank him away from the wagon and Fili only distantly registers them. He’d been positive that Kili was here and now…

          Yells erupt as Dwalin arrives on the scene, brawny fury knocking every obstacle aside. Knuckle-dusters catch against the fabric of his coat as his uncle’s friend tugs him away from the other dwarves and Fili still cannot bring himself to care. His mind continuously replays the empty wagon over and over again in his head and with each remembrance his heart sinks just a little bit more. He’d been so sure…

          “He’s not there,” Fili mumbles dully. He’s not sure whether or not Dwalin even hears him and really what does it matter? Kili’s not there. He was wrong.

          “What did you do with him?” Dwalin asks, and that certainly wasn’t what Fili had expected. He looks up at Dwalin in confusion, but the tattooed warrior focuses on the four dwarves spaced protectively in front of their wagon. Dwalin’s hand rests forebodingly on the handle of one of his axes and a scowl decorates his face. “The dwarf lad that you had. What did you do with him?”

          “What’s it to you?” The dwarf who seems to be their leader answers Dwalin, his dirty brown beard plaited into four separate strands.

          “Answer the bloody question.” There is no hint of hostility in Dwalin’s voice which makes the little grin darting around his face that much more terrifying.

          “We were taking the little brute back to Ered Luin.” This time the one who answers is a dwarf with a black beard and a low, morose voice. “You must have heard about the reward for the bastard, that’s why you’re here. He was more trouble than he was worth so when that bugger showed up we let him go.”

          “What?” Fili asks, his mind finally connecting the words. “Who…what about the reward?” Dwalin’s glare scorches the back of his head and Fili could wince. That’s the least of their worries.

          The other dwarves seem to think his question stupid as well, from the half-hearted shrugs they give. “He had more coin than the reward promised and if he wanted the fucking monster then that’s all for the better.” Later perhaps Fili will be amused by their descriptions of Kili but for now all he’s concerned with is forcing his mind to work faster and tie all of the separate threads together.

          “This is very important now laddie,” Dwalin growls, demeanor switching to actively menacing. “Where did this dwarf go?”

          “Didn’t pay attention,” the leader sulks. “What does it matter?”

          Fili snarls as his mind connects at least two strands of thought—this dwarf knows where Kili was headed and he’s not talking. He moves without pausing to think. One of his swords scrapes against the dwarf’s throat, underneath the center plait and if Fili pushes just a little harder then he will feel the delicious give of flesh against his blade. Dwalin, to his surprise, does nothing to stop him.

          “Where. Did. They. Go?” Fili growls. He gives the dwarf a small shake at the end of every sentence to punctuate his words, though he supposes that the sword against the throat should do a fairly decent job of that.

          “W—west,” the dwarf finally stutters as real fear enters his eyes. A shaking finger confirms the directions. “There’s a road a few miles back.”

          Fili drops him as soon as he has the information and paces for a few moments as his mind sputters into action. A quick glance at his pony confirms that the beast is winded—her head hangs low and her nostrils still flare as she regains her strength.

          “I’m going,” he announces to Dwalin, though he really doesn’t think that it’s necessary. He throws a few coins on the ground and grabs at one of the ponies’ reins. “Also, I’m buying this pony.”

          More protests come from the group but Fili ignores them all as he removes his tack from his exhausted pony and places it on the fresh one. He cinches his saddle before he swiftly mounts and looks down at Dwalin.

          “I’ll meet you in the Prancing Pony at Bree,” Fili tells him. He half expects Dwalin to try to stop him but Dwalin simply nods brusquely.

          “Don’t take too long lad. If you’re gone anymore than a day I’ll look for you.” _And tan your hide when I find you_ is the unspoken threat behind that statement and Fili accepts it gratefully.

          “Good hunting,” Dwalin calls after him as Fili spurs his pony into the night.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-   

 

          By dawn Fili discovers the flaw in his plan: he is not a tracker.

          He finds the west road easily enough and for a few miles the footprints are easy to read: two dwarves walked along the road, though it looks like one was unwilling: long scuff marks litter the dirt, like one was digging in their heels to avoid movement. There’s even a long drag mark which Fili recognizes from hauling kills in—the marks of a body being pulled along the ground. A quiet fury ignites within him and he silently seethes as he follows how long the body was dragged before the footsteps begin again.

          But then the tracks disappear and Fili can only reach the conclusion that the pair must have made a detour into the woods. He kneels where the footprints vanish as he searches for further clues and comes up empty. Only questions arise: why go into the wilds, where there’s more chance of wolves and orcs? Why take the western road at all? Though it’s possible to reach Ered Luin this way it’s undoubtedly longer and from the looks of the tracks Kili was not a fun travelling companion, so why prolong the time spent together? The unease grows stronger in his gut until he’s almost nauseous with it.

          Along with his churning innards is a sense in the back of his mind, little more than a stirring which grows louder as the sun continues its climb. It simply says _Hurry, hurry, hurry._

          “I’m trying, I’m trying,” Fili mutters as he inches along the ground, searching for any clues at all. He tries not to think about the fact that, were their positions reversed, Kili probably would have found him by now.

          Finally, he lights on something: it’s almost too small to be noticed, but there’s a tiny weed which has been crushed by something. Next to it a few branches of a small shrubbery lie on the ground. With nothing else to go on, Fili decides to follow these small clues.

          As he continues, the signs grow clearer: this is the way that they took. The debris of the duo’s passing increases as Fili travels deeper into the forest but instead of making him happy his foreboding only increases. Some of the smaller saplings have almost been torn down…how much struggling would it take for a relatively slender dwarf to cause that much damage?

          It’s almost midday and Fili knows that he’s taken too long. He has no evidence to support this certainty but he feels it the same way that he can feel his bones underneath his skin. His steps grow quicker as his path becomes clear and the need for scrutiny passes. A sound which does not belong to the forest reaches his ears and he freezes before he sprints forward.

          At first he can’t comprehend what he’s looking at. His eyes refuse to focus and his whole world spins for a moment. Vertigo grips him and he has to clutch at a tree in order to right everything. When that moment passes however, he feels certainty sing through his blood, even though he’s looking onto a horrific scene.

          Kili sits with his back to a tree and head hanging down. At first glance Fili thought he was simply relaxing but then he sees the ropes around his torso and wrists and realizes that he’s tightly bound. At the sound of Fili’s approach the archer’s head snaps up and Fili doesn’t know what sparks his rage: the sudden fear in Kili’s dark eyes, the gag forced into his mouth or the bruises which litter his face, accentuated by the thin trickle of blood running down his cheek.

 It only takes him a few strides to kneel in front of Kili and his hands reach for the gag. Kili’s eyes are wide and he violently shakes his head, which only makes it harder for Fili to undo the binding holding the gag in place. The sounds escaping his mouth are muffled but Fili can tell that they’re not sounds of joy.

          Even with Kili’s struggling Fili finally manages to untie the leather thong which holds the rag in his mouth. Kili spits and Fili pulls and before the last of the fabric has left his mouth Kili is already swearing furiously at him.

          “What are you doing here Fili, get the fuck out of here, seriously, leave now, _get out of here Fili_ —“

          “What are you—“Fili begins, vague worry alighting underneath the insulted portion of his brain which seethes that even if Kili hates him then he should at least be happy that he’s being rescued. Fili doesn’t get a chance to finish as a shock travels from the back of his skull to his eyeballs and blinding pain settles in his skull.

          Fili drops to the ground and sputters but he can already feel blackness crowding the edge of his vision. He tries to cling to consciousness but it’s painfully clear that he’s fighting a losing battle.

          The last thing he hears is Kili’s agonized scream.

          _“FILI!”_

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

_He lays in a sun-drenched meadow, with the sounds of a brook babbling comfortingly in the background. Soft grass tickles his nose as he rolls his head to the side and he might be a dwarf of the royal line of Erebor, but he still doesn’t think that any mountain halls could compare to the simple beauty of this clearing in the mid-summer afternoon and if that makes him a little…elvish, then so be it. Besides, his company is more than exemplary._

_“Going to sleep the afternoon away?” Kili teases as his fingers card tenderly through his hair._

_“I’d considered it,” Fili answers, his lips quirking up in a tender smile as he examines how the sunlight gleams off of Kili’s hair and skin._

_“Lazy,” Kili accuses, but the sting of the insult is lost as he flops on his back next to him. Without thinking Fili laces their fingers together and turns his head. He gets lost staring at Kili, forgets himself in the fascinating play of dappled sunlight on pale skin, on dark stubble._

_“Fili. Love. Brother.” Fili hums in response to all three titles as he runs his thumb over the back of Kili’s hand. “Wake up.”_

_“Don’t feel like it,” Fili protests, pouting at Kili’s strangely earnest expression. “I don’t want to leave...”_

_“I know,” Kili says, sorrow in his dark eyes. “But you have to wake up love.”_

“Fili, please wake up!”

          Fili jerks back into awareness and wishes that he could have remained blissfully asleep. Agony throbs in the base of his skull and a sticky wetness trickles down the back of his neck. It’s only when he tries to raise his hand to wipe away the annoying liquid that he realizes that his hands are tied. A swift glance confirms his situation—he’s bound in much the same way as Kili, sitting with his back against a tree trunk, ropes cutting into his torso. His legs are free, for all the good it does him.

          “Fili!” His vision fades in and out of focus but with an effort Fili narrows his concentration to center solely on Kili.

          “ _Gods,_ you’re awake,” Kili breathes and despite everything his faces breaks into that grin which Fili adores.

          “Yeah,” he grunts. It’s not his most eloquent response but he’s still trying to force his mind to start formulating a plan for their escape. Kili however, seems intent on disrupting him.

          “Fili…I’m sorry.”

          “It’s all right,” Fili answers automatically as his eyes search the clearing. His swords lie haphazardly a few paces from him and he winces to see how carelessly they were tossed aside. His throwing knives are still holstered in his boots—obviously their captors didn’t think to search him thoroughly or else they would have come across the cunningly designed sheathe. Someone who could overlook that would perhaps make other mistakes as well…

          “Fili, please.” Kili’s voice again jerks him away from thought and Fili fights the urge to groan. Kili really could pick a better time to have this discussion.

          “Can we talk about this later?” He asks through gritted teeth. The beginnings of a plan are just forming in his mind and any sort of distraction will only shatter the tendrils but Kili obviously doesn’t realize this.

          “I’m sorry, I never should have left, I’m so sorry—“

          “Can we talk about this _later?”_ Fili snaps and feels immediately guilty for the pain which flashes across Kili’s face but he’s almost figured everything out. He opens his mouth to tell Kili the first part of his plan when—

          “You’re awake.” The voice sounds tender but unpleasant chills creep down Fili’s spine. It makes him feel like spiders are crawling over his skin and he shudders with the sensation. “I was worried.”

          Though Fili already knows who it is, his stomach still roils when Mim comes into view. His former hunting partner kneels before him and if it were it any other dwarf the look on his face would be described as caring. Mim smiles at him as he reaches out to hook a braid behind his ear. Nausea grips Fili and he flinches away from the touch. Mim’s smile twists harshly before it smoothes out.

          “I’m sorry, I really am.” Mim determinedly strokes a finger down Fili’s cheek and Fili closes his eyes in revulsion. A thumb brushes over the corner of his mouth and Fili jerks his head back, causing a wave of pain and dizziness to crash through his body. While he tries to regain his breath, the touches increase in boldness until Mim’s fingers are stroking over his lips, his beard, the corner of his eye…

          “Don’t fucking touch him!”

          Fili opens dazed eyes to see Kili furiously struggling against his bonds, his teeth bared as he strains against the ropes. A fierce surge of love sears through him as he looks at his brother, his One, so wild and ferocious.

          The feeling passes as soon as it arrived and leaves Fili bereft and shaky as Mim glares venomously at Kili. The hate glitters in his eyes and doesn’t leave, even when he turns his attention back to Fili.

          “I’m don’t actually want him here but I needed him.” Fili tries to focus on Mim, aware that anything which the other says to him is information he can use but it’s hard to concentrate over the anger and worry of Kili’s words pounding against his skull. “I needed you to see this.”

          “See what?” Fili asks stupidly, before he sees the bright, unsettling gleam the knife which Mim holds. His eyes widen and suddenly he doesn’t want the answer to that question.

          “I thought after he’d gone—I thought that you would come for me then.” Mim’s shoulders droop and Fili almost feels sorry for him, before his former partner straightens and grins at Fili with a look that has lost all touch with reality. “But then I realized that even though he wasn’t there you were still thinking about him—he’d stolen you, don’t you see?”

          Fili’s breathing quickens as he listens to Mim’s rant. He ignores the hand which cups his cheek and strokes his hair as he locks eyes with Kili. He finally understands the fear and urgency written plainly on the archer’s face, finally grasps the meaning behind the desperate apologies—Kili doesn’t think that they’re going to make it out of this alive.

          Mim’s hand rests heavy and suffocating against his collarbone but Fili only has eyes for Kili. The fingers tighten imperceptibly against his skin for a moment before his jaw is seized in a bruising grip. Mim fills his field of vision and Fili struggles helplessly against him, all thoughts of appeasement gone. All that remains is Kili.

          “So he has to go,” Mim says, an earnest expression twisting his features. He looks almost as if he wants Fili to approve of the actions he’s taking, wants Fili’s blessing before he continues. “He stole you and you’ll never be mine while he’s alive, so he has to go…”

          “No,” Fili croaks as he finally frees his chin. “No…he’s my brother…”

          He can almost feel Kili’s hurt from across the clearing but Kili can’t see the madness shining in Mim’s eyes, can’t feel the barely restrained violence in the tips of his fingers. There’s no hint of sanity in Mim’s eyes and if he were to admit the strength of his feelings…If he has to hurt Kili in order to keep him alive then that’s a sacrifice he’ll make time and time again.

          “He stole you,” Mim plaintively repeats, sounding like a spoilt child. “You were mine and he took you away and it wasn’t his to take— _mine,”_ he breathes, greed blasting foully in Fili’s face as Mim wraps a braid around his fingers and pulls hard. Fili can’t restrain the yelp of pained protest which tears from him and Kili’s enraged roar answers him.

          “Fili! Fucking…get over here and I’ll slit your throat, thrice damned son of an orc—“

          Kili’s threats and curses continue and Fili closes his eyes in horror. Kili hasn’t seen the gleam in Mim’s eyes which speaks only of death and murder—so many times Fili heard the warning of the greed of dwarves, heard Balin say how it could infect the mind and poison it beyond all recognition…He only thought that it was for precious metals. He never thought that unwanted advances could go this far, lead to this sort of danger.  

          “No,” Fili pleads as Mim releases him to walk over to Kili. His words go unheeded and the sound of a hand cracking against flesh echoes through the clearing. At Kili’s grunt of pain, Fili understands the fury which had so consumed the archer. The sight of fresh blood smeared across Kili’s lips and jaw only fuels his incandescent anger—he wants nothing more than to feel skin beneath his fingers, feel the bob of a throat as it struggles against him, the weak, futile protests of a body pushed beyond its limits. He silently allows the darkness to build within him until it becomes a raging inferno.

          If only he could reach his boot—the hilt of his knife is just barely visible and if he could get his leg closer to his hand then everything would be fine—he’s a dead shot with a throwing knife. But he’s nowhere near the amount of flexible required for the feat and so he’s stuck grinding the heel of his boot into the dirt, and all the while Mim stands there, contemplating Kili. Kili returns the hate in Mim’s glare, all feral rage and spitting fury as his lips draw back from his teeth in defiance. Fili has never loved him more.

          The knife draws back before Mim plunges forward and Fili shrieks in denial, shrill and disbelieving because Kili cannot die in front of him, not when he’s finally found him again, not because of Fili. _He won’t allow it._

          Mim turns around and the smile which grotesquely splits his face is enough to make Fili sick. “You’re right,” he breathes smugly. “Not like that.”

          “No, no…” Fili babbles as the knife comes perilously close to Kili but it’s only to cut the ropes binding him to the tree. Kili moves swiftly as he rolls to the side but Mim has the advantage and stuns the archer with a well-placed kick to his stomach. Kili groans in pain as he instinctively curls into a small ball.

          Fili roars in impotent fury as Mim’s filthy hands grab Kili’s hair. The mad dwarf drags Kili over to him, ignoring how Kili’s feet kick and struggle for purchase on the forest floor.

          “I’m doing this for you Fili,” Mim tells him and Fili thinks he might vomit. “This is all for you.”

          Fili curses and begs and he thinks he might be crying as the hand fisted in Kili’s hair shakes the bowman roughly. The knife flashes and wild pleas fall from his lips, desperate promises which Fili would keep if only Kili were spared.

          “Please don’t, please, you don’t have to do this, please don’t hurt him—“

          “It’s for you,” Mim whispers again and he gazes adoringly at Fili.

          The pause gives Kili his moment. With a stomach-churning rip Kili pulls free, leaving a hank of dark hair clutched in Mim’s grasping fingers. For a moment Fili thinks that Kili will make a run for it—he almost hopes he does, it will at least get him out of harm’s way—Kili’s body falls against his.

          Kili’s breath, harsh and stilted, sounds in his ears. Kili knows him in a way that Mim never could and his sure hands find the thin throwing knives concealed in Fili’s boots. The comforting sound of metal scraping against wood rings through the clearing. Mim roars and Fili sees the knife raised above Kili’s head but it’s all going to be ok because Kili’s got his own knife and he can easily dispatch Mim, even though he’s only got a moment—

          Fili’s bonds are cut.

          Mim’s knife descends.

          And Fili _screams._

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -cackle-


	22. Never Fade in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blood, death, and tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man you guys. Just...you guys. 
> 
> Hugs. To all of you. Because even though I'm sure you're all quite angry with me, you still stuck around. <3

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

The white-hot pain which scorches across his shoulders is the first indication that maybe something’s gone wrong.

          Fili’s scream is the second.

          Kili lifts his suddenly heavy head up from the ground—when did he fall face-forward to the earth?—and squints through suddenly hazy eyes at the scene unfolding before him. Fili pushes away from the tree, shaking the small remnants of rope off of his limbs as he surges forward for his swords. The mad dwarf stares at Fili in disbelief before his face contorts in rage and he lunges forward. Kili sees the boots in front of his face and realizes with a sinking heart that they do not belong to Fili.

          By this time Fili has one of his swords in hand and faces his opponent. Kili can’t quite spy the expression on his face but he can feel the fury radiating off of the swordsman. “Don’t you dare come near him again,” Fili snarls, but Kili wishes his voice possessed more surety than it currently does.

          Kili whimpers as a heavy foot slams into his lower back and then howls as agony blazes across his shoulders. The bright flash ebbs to be replaced with a throbbing pain which spreads through his whole body. He feels the oozing of hot sticky liquid across his shoulder blades and then a knife, still dripping blood, appears in his vision…it takes Kili’s pain-addled brain a moment to process exactly what happened, but when he does rage and horror war within him. The bastard stabbed him…shoved that knife into his shoulders and then pulled it out… And now he’s threatening Fili…

          His brain had rebelled at the thought of Fili as a helpless captive, tied to the tree like someone’s prize. He’d just wanted to get to Fili, ensure that he was free and verify that he would be safe — He’d had one split-second of triumph as the knife had cut through the ropes before the pain devoured him. And even now, with blood slowly seeping down his back, he still doesn’t regret his decision—though the sound of Fili’s horrified scream echoes in his mind.

          Kili groans as a hand fists in his hair and roughly tugs him to his knees. He weakly scrabbles at the forearm holding him but he has no strength left to put up a decent fight. Fili looks at him, eyes wide with disbelief and fear and Kili tries to say everything that he couldn’t when they were bound across from each other—

          _I’m sorry._

_I love you._

          “Don’t,” Fili orders, just before the tip of the knife presses against the tender flesh of Kili’s throat. “No!” Fili cries, but instead of sounding forceful and commanding his voice just sounds lost and afraid.

          “This is for you,” the mad dwarf says again as the knife digs into Kili’s throat. The skin parts beneath the tip and Kili fights the urge to jerk backwards. Fili sinks to his knees and Kili despairs at the defeated look in his eyes. “Fili, don’t you see? He doesn’t deserve you, he never did and you’ll be better without him—“

          Maybe the madness spreads through contact because for a moment, those words seduce Kili, perhaps because they’re what he’s thought in the dark nights. Fili would have been so much happier without him. He never did deserve touching such golden perfection and maybe it would be better if he was just…all he ever wanted from the moment he saw Fili was for him to be happy.

          _“No,”_ Fili repeats and there’s something different in the inflection of the word which makes Kili’s eyes snap to the swordsman. The steely purpose in Fili’s eyes acts like a cold bucket of water thrown over him and Kili kicks his brain into moving faster, always faster—Fili stares at him and with an effortless leap which Kili isn’t even aware of until it’s made, he finds that he instantly sees each little nuance of Fili once more, down to the smallest twitch of his face.

          Fili raises a brow and flicks his eyes to the right while his left hand drops to rest beside his boot. To anyone else it would mean nothing but to Kili a whole saga is written within those simple gestures. He blinks once, deliberately: _I understand._ Fili’s fingers curl and he blinks back at Kili. _Your move._

Kili draws in a silent breath and offers a silent prayer to any gods which might be listening, offers a prayer to Fili, in whom he puts more faith and trust than any absent deity.

          The whole exchange takes less than a second. Before his body completely fails him Kili summons his depleted reserves of strength and howls, shredding what little remains of his vocal chords. Mim’s surprised jerk gives Kili just enough time to duck his head and throw his body down and to the right. The mad dwarf’s arm tightens around his body but the sound of air parting around a keen blade matters more to Kili. Wind ruffles his hair just before a liquid thud sounds in his ears and crimson wetness splatters on his face.

          The tight grip on Kili’s body is released and the archer gasps as his failing body falls to the ground. Pain blurs all other senses and Kili struggles to draw in breath against the vice which grips his chest. A red haze obscures his vision and all he can discern are two figures darting around each other—one wielding a sword like a man possessed, the other feebly parrying his movements with a knife. Kili finds himself darkly pleased to note the stilted quality to Mim’s movements, a sure indicator of injury.

          Mim whirls as Fili slashes at him and with a disconnected interest Kili notes the knife sticking obscenely out of his shoulder. Fili snarls as his free hand reaches behind his back and draws his second sword. Both weapons move in a silver blur and eventually Mim falls back against the onslaught—straight towards where Kili lies, too weak to move out of the way.

          “Don’t you _dare_ go near him!” Faster, and with more grace than Kili ever thought possible, Fili flows forward, a vicious, wild snarl reverberating through his chest. Both swords flash—

          The clang of steel clashing competes with the softer, yet infinitely louder sound of flesh parting.

          Mim looks at Fili, lips parted wide in unbelieving confusion, before he looks down at Fili’s sword piercing his chest. Even now he struggles to mouth a word at Fili. Kili can’t understand what he says but Fili snarls once more as he pulls his sword free.

          “Neither of us was _ever_ yours to touch,” Fili spits as the body collapses in a heap.

          A heartbeat passes while Fili stands over his kill, fingers convulsively tightening on the grip of his bloody sword. Frightened and fading swiftly, Kili tries to call out for the golden prince but all which escapes him is a strangled whimper. It’s enough however, as Fili drops his swords and sprints to his side, hands already reaching out to carefully caress his face and move his failing body.

          “Fee…Fili,” Kili whispers, as he reaches out with trembling hands towards the glinting silver bead. He almost sobs in relief as his hand is gently guided to wrap around the soft blonde braid.

          “You idiot,” Fili breathes. Kili’s head rests on Fili’s lap and despite the pain throbbing in his back and the swiftly increasing blurriness of his vision he feels complete for the first time in weeks. “You stupid, stupid idiot…why did you do that? You had the knife in your hand…why did you even bother getting me free?”

          “Dunno,” Kili mumbles. A fresh wave of pain hits him and he inhales sharply.

          “Stupid,” Fili curses at him but the word sounds somehow soft and almost affectionate.

          “Not,” Kili slurs, defending himself more from habit than any conviction that he’s right—the blood slowly staining his clothes is testament enough to the brilliance of his plan. “Didn’t want you hurt,” Kili further clarifies. He attempts to sit upright but his body refuses to do his bidding anymore and he falls backwards with a pathetic little whimper.

          “It’s all right now, everything’s all right, I’m here,” Fili assures him. A soft thumb sweeps over his tender, bruised face as Fili’s strong arm snakes underneath his back to cradle him. “I’ve got you, it’s all going to be all right. No one’s going to hurt you.”

          Fili’s voice hardens and his mouth twists in an ugly frown as he finishes. There’s heaviness around his brow which wasn’t present before and his shoulders seem weighted down more than they used to be. Kili worries for a moment, if Fili will have changed, if he will somehow be different than the dwarf he was before, but he needn’t have—the blue eyes still have all of the softness and warmth which he remembers. The sapphire depths glow with affection, so different than the last time he looked into them, when they were shining with betrayal.

          “Fili, I’m sorry,” Kili chokes out, because if the dizziness and encroaching blackness on the edges of his vision means what he thinks it does, then he should probably apologize now. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to…” A sudden wave of pain seizes him and he stifles a gasp.

          Fili looks down on him with nothing but concern. “It’s all right Kili, it’s fine, everything’s going to be all right…” Harsh breaths escape through his clenched teeth as Fili’s arm pushes him up into a sitting position. Strong fingers skate over where the pain seems to be emanating from and a low whine builds and dies in Kili’s throat.

          Despite the agony of movement, Kili pushes his face into the familiar crook of Fili’s neck. He needs the comfort of Fili’s solidity and craves the contact between the two of them. If he’s dying then surely this is the least that he can hope for.

          Fili’s arms hold him steady against his body and Kili closes his eyes in exhausted relief. “I never wanted to hurt you,” Kili mumbles, as darkness beckons him. “I only…Mahal Fili, I love you…”

          Fili says something to him but Kili can’t hear it with his ears muffled by Fili’s coat and awareness swiftly escaping his body. “I love you,” he repeats, holding tightly with everything he is, to this, the one truth which his life has known.

          “I love you.”

          Fili’s mouth moves, voice sounding in a shrill plea, but the pain has become too much.

          With a final sigh of Fili’s name, Kili lets himself slip into darkness.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

          Kili looks small and well… _dwarfed_ in the large bed designed for Men in the Prancing Pony. The archer lays on his stomach in order to avoid placing undue weight on his injured shoulders and his dark hair spreads out on the white pillow. Fili glances over at his sleeping brother before he fiddles once more with the pipe in his hands.

          Fili had been desperate when he’d come roaring into the inn, demanding a healer at the top of his lungs until Dwalin had finally managed to calm him. Kili had been drifting in and out of blurred consciousness for the whole of their trip and Fili had finally tied his legs down to the pony to stop him from sliding off of the animal. As they’d gotten closer and closer to Bree Fili had seen Kili’s condition worsening, his skin becoming clammy and sweaty and his eyes glazed with fever and pain. Fili had been convinced he was going to die and he’d been half-mad with anguish and grief until the healer had finally turned to him.

          “He’s got a nasty wound which has been putting him through some pain but with a good cleaning, some herbs and luck, he should be fine.”

          Fili had gripped the back of a chair so hard that the flimsy wood had splintered somewhat as he fought to process the healer’s words. Kili was going to be fine. He was going to live. He still had a chance…

          “You’re sure?” he asked, suddenly and irrationally convinced that this was nothing more than an elaborate, cruel jape.

          “He’s lucky that the knife caught him where it did, but yes, I’m saying that you shouldn’t have anything to worry about.”

          Fili heaved out a dry sob of relief and was grateful for Dwalin’s steady, silent presence behind him. He glanced at the bed, his heart slowing to a more manageable beat as he viewed Kili’s bandaged back.

          Kili mumbles and stirs in his sleep as Fili watches. He wants nothing more than to stretch himself out against that frame but he’s afraid of inadvertently hurting the bowman. More than that, he’s worried about Kili’s reaction if he wakes up and finds the swordsman sleeping next to him. He heard Kili’s words just before he passed out but they were nothing more than delirious, pain-filled ramblings.

          The sound of the door opening chases those thoughts away and Fili looks up as Dwalin enters. The warrior looks at the sleeping figure on the bed and a cacophony of emotions chase themselves across his face. Dwalin finally turns his attention back to Fili, his eyes intense and mouth set.

          “You all right lad?”

          Fili nods automatically, thinking that this is simply part of his and Dwalin’s routine—the burly dwarf always asks him that after every sparring session, even though he knows that Fili will automatically deny any injury. Dwalin’s noise of disapproval ensures that he captures Fili’s complete attention as the blonde looks at him in vague surprise. Dwalin leans forward, clinking his knuckle-dusters together.

          “I’m not dense, I know what must have happened out there, even though you won’t tell anyone the truth.” Fili’s mouth goes dry—he has only said that Kili was hurt in a struggle, he hasn’t mentioned anything about Mim or the fact that he can still remember the exact sound the body made when it hit the ground—

          “So I’ll ask you again,” Dwalin continues, ignoring Fili’s suddenly terrified expression, “are you all right?”

          This time Fili pauses as his hands clench and unclench in his lap. He remembers the horror which washed through his body as Mim’s hand slashed down and buried the knife in Kili’s shoulders. He thinks back on how Kili simply dropped to the ground, face-down and unmoving, the hilt of the weapon sticking obscenely out of his back. He hadn’t even known he was moving until the ropes were thrown off of his body and his sword was in his hand. But by then Mim was standing in front of Kili and blocking his way.

          He’d never felt so helpless in all of his life—Kili, his precious Kili, in the clutches of that monster, already hurt, already failing. And the look in his eyes—it was as bleak as an arid field, completely void of any life—The crimson blood against the expanse of Kili’s throat mocked him, reminding him of all of his failures. Kili was going to die, right in front of him, and it was going to be his fault…

            _No,_ Fili had thought fiercely, as he remembered the fire in Kili’s eyes as they sparred and wrestled together, the challenging tilt of the archer’s head as he goaded Fili into yet another competition. This wasn’t the Kili that he knew, this helpless shell barely clinging onto sentience. As his denial was given voice, he saw the spark come back into Kili’s eyes, saw the very moment when all of the pieces connected in Kili’s mind. The archer had blinked once, slowly, and relief flooded through Fili. There was still a chance.

          He’d known that the throw was good, his blade striking true in the nerves of the arm. The knife had dropped from fingers which were suddenly disconnected from the brain and Fili had come surging forth, more fearsome than a dammed river, raging at its bonds, suddenly released. He was going to make this bastard _pay_ because Kili was hurt and Mim had dared lay a hand on something which was more valuable than any jewel. He’d lost himself to the fury which tugged at his sanity, jumped headlong into the blood-streaked haze which tinged his vision and had only returned to his mind when he had heard Kili’s pained attempts to call for him.

          Fili had been so concerned with getting Kili help that he hadn’t even buried the body.

          “Kili wanted to kill him before,” Fili answers as he sorts through his thoughts and memories. “He’d…attacked me, from behind and Kili stopped him…He was just about to kill him when I interfered.”

          Dwalin grunts and Fili continues. “I thought that he could be helped, that perhaps the healers could…I didn’t want Kili to have his blood on his hands. I didn’t want him to be a killer.”

          “And you?” Dwalin prods after a moment of silence.

          “I don’t regret anything.” The rightness of the words settles in his chest, calming a lingering ache. “He was going to kill Kili, I know that. His eyes…” Fili shakes his head, upset for the first time in the conversation. “There was nothing there anymore Dwalin. The madness had taken him until nothing else remained…I couldn’t have saved him even if I wanted to…there wasn’t anything left to save.”

          “It can change you,” Dwalin says quietly, his face so full of distant regret that Fili can only wonder at the pain which the grizzled warrior holds in his past. “You sometimes don’t even realize that it has.”

          “He was going to _kill_ Kili,” Fili says again, certainty ringing through his words. “You could put the same situation in front of me again and again and I wouldn’t do anything different.” Fili pauses as he considers Dwalin’s words. “It has changed me. I can’t quite say how but…I still don’t regret it,” Fili finishes as he glances over at where Kili peacefully slumbers. “I’ll _never_ regret it,” he whispers vehemently.

          Dwalin nods and though sadness still lingers at the corners of his lips and in his eyes, he does not see fit to press Fili further. “I’m getting ready to turn in for the night,” he announces as he stands. “Only got the two rooms, so you’ll have to share with him.”

          “That’s fine,” Fili murmurs.

          “We’ll be staying here for a few days until the lad’s well enough to travel.” Fili nods, as Dwalin isn’t telling him anything which he doesn’t already know. The door shuts quietly behind Dwalin and Fili turns his attention once more to Kili’s unconscious form.

          After a few seconds the temptation to touch proves too great and he gently picks a strand of hair out of Kili’s face and hooks it behind his ear. Kili murmurs and his lashes flutter on his cheek before his eyes open and he blearily gazes at Fili.

          “Hey,” Fili murmurs as he moves his chair closer to Kili’s head. “How are you feeling?”

          Kili’s face contorts for a moment before it smoothes out. “Weird,” he mumbles as his body relaxes even further into the mattress. “Like…it should hurt but it doesn’t…”

          “The healer gave you some herbs to deaden the pain,” Fili explains. “Good to know they work.” Kili makes a noise of acknowledgement and his eyes close again. Fili chews his lower lip as he debates bringing up what Kili said right before he passed out—his heart had nearly burst out of his chest when Kili had choked out his fervent declarations of love. He looks at Kili, who lies on the bed with his head pillowed on his arms and finally decides against it. Those were delirious, pain-ramblings, nothing more and to hear Kili admit to that would crush him.

          Kili moves his head and Fili winces as a painful streak of guilt rips through him at the sight of the dark rope burns on Kili’s wrist. He reaches tentatively forward and ghosts a finger over the mark. Kili tenses before he relaxes though his dark eyes warily watch him. Fili feels his gaze but cannot pull his attention from the ugly wound marring the otherwise smooth skin.

          “I’m sorry,” Fili whispers as he finally withdraws. He looks at Kili and then ducks his head, too afraid that Kili will see the emotions writ plainly on his face.

          “It’s all right,” Kili murmurs. His hand twitches like he wants to reach out to Fili but he stops himself in the last minute. “It’s done with now.”

          “Yeah,” Fili agrees as he attempts to drag himself back to the present. He sighs and scrubs his forehead with the flat of his hand before looking at Kili. “We’re just going to stay here a few days until you get well enough to travel. Then we’re going home.”

          Kili stiffens and turns his head away from Fili. Fili looks after him as his heart twists with rejection. He had been afraid of this, that Kili would push him away and want nothing to do with him. Guilt rises once more, this time fueled by the surety of Kili’s dismissal.

          “I’ll let you get some sleep,” Fili finally says, unable to bear the feeling of Kili’s apathy. Kili gives no indication that he heard Fili speak as Fili sits down on the edge of the second bed and starts to pull his boots off. For a moment he had toyed with the idea of going downstairs but the Prancing Pony doesn’t look to be catered to dwarves and having to fake a happy look on his face for the whole night sounds utterly unbearable.

          Dressing down to an undershirt and breeches Fili lays back on the bed and stares at the ceiling. The sound of Kili’s deep breathing echoes through the room and Fili uses the rhythm as a lullaby, to soothe his restless mind into sleep.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

          The breeze wakes him, brushing his face with soft fingers. Fili breathes the scent of summer night in deep before his eyes fly open.

_That window was not open when he went to sleep._

           He hisses as his eyes take a moment to adjust to the nonexistent lighting in the inn-room and then he freezes. Silhouetted against the window is Kili’s form. Fili can tell from the curve of the body that Kili’s looking back at him just before the archer turns his attention to the open window and places his hands on either side.

          “No!” Fili roars, unheeding of the noise he makes as he lunges forward out of bed. Within a few short steps he’s reached Kili and he violently wrenches him away from the open window. Kili’s fingers scrabble at the wood in an attempt to escape but Fili is much stronger, especially now that Kili’s injured.

          Caught in the moment Fili blindly lifts Kili by a tight grip around the bowman’s waist and throws him heavily onto the bed. A pained cry escapes Kili as his back hits the mattress and guilt briefly dampens Fili’s angry panic. He leans over Kili with the intent to apologize but Kili just pushes him away.

          “Let me go!” Kili hisses as he tries to dart past Fili. Kili tries to escape several times before Fili finally loses his patience and pushes Kili down, keeping the slender dwarf’s hands pinned beside his head.

          “What in Mahal’s name do you think you’re doing?” Cautious of the thin walls of the inn Fili tries to keep his voice down but he can’t help the edge which creeps into his voice.

          “What do you think?” Kili growls as he strains upward against Fili’s wrists. He ceases struggling as his eyes close in pain before he tries to renew his attempts to wriggle free.

          “Stop it, you’re going to hurt yourself,” Fili automatically cautions, concern for Kili weighing out everything else.  

          “Like you care,” Kili spits and Fili gapes at him for a moment, unable to believe his ears.

          “What are you…how…how could you even think that?” Fili asks as he inadvertently tightens his grip on Kili’s wrists in disbelief.

          “Because it’s true!” Kili insists as he struggles to break free, nails scoring small marks into the backs of Fili’s hands. His lips are pulled back into a sneer of exertion as he fights to break Fili’s hold. His every move seems desperate, the futile attempts of the already condemned, yet Kili still fights him.

          “You really think that?”

          “You’re damn right I do!”

          “Then you’re a fool.” Fili abruptly releases Kili and rolls away from him to sit on the edge of the bed. Bitterness seeps through him as he stares blankly at the wall in front of him. From behind him, Kili shifts his weight but doesn’t speak. There are so many things which Fili wants to say so he says none of them. He clenches and unclenches his fist, concentrating on the dig of his fingernails into the calloused skin of his palm.

          “Fili…” Kili’s voice flows soft and hesitant in the sudden awkward hush of the room. Fili waits for him to continue but after a few moments it becomes clear that Kili isn’t talking. Fili still waits, wanting to hear Kili’s voice so badly that he aches for the softly lilting vowels, the slight slur of the ending of words. The silence stretches until it becomes a malicious, living being in the room with them and finally Fili can’t take it anymore.

 “It’s fine,” he finally whispers, even though he’s not, he will never be _fine_. Silence descends on them once more, oppressing and ravenous and Fili finally sighs in broken defeat. His chance, if he ever had a chance, has been lost. “Look, if I go back to sleep are you going to try to leave?”

          “No,” Kili says, so quickly that Fili knows it’s a lie and the anger which had calmed roars swiftly back to the surface.

          “That’s a good idea, go out into the wild injured and without any ability to care for yourself,” he acidly taunts. “Brilliant.”

          Kili’s flush is so dark that it’s visible even by the moonlight. “Look, it’s obvious that you don’t really want me to stay, so why don’t I just go?” he asks as he tries to shove his way past Fili. Acting on blind reflex Fili seizes Kili’s shoulders and shoves him backwards, jolting Kili’s back hard enough that the brunette yelps. His temper, already straining at the tattered shreds of his self-control, consumes him and Fili finds himself pinning Kili down with his full weight. All he wanted to do was save Kili and he did that but Kili still doesn’t want him which hurts because Fili wants Kili, now more than ever after almost watching him die…And just to make everything worse, Kili’s still trying to run, like he did in Ered Luin, like he has for the whole time that Fili’s known him and he’s just _done—_

          “ _Would you just_ stop _running_?!” Fili bellows in Kili’s pained face, ignoring the surprised gasp from beneath him. “All you ever do is run!”

          “What else am I supposed to do?” Kili shouts back. “I can’t be you Fili; I can’t be perfect, I can’t just be this statue and have everything be fine, I can’t pretend that everything’s fine when it’s not—“

          “I’m not asking you to be me!”

          “Yes you are!” Kili snaps, dark eyes flashing dangerously. “You want to pretend like nothing ever happened, like we didn’t…” For the first time Kili’s voice catches in his throat and it takes him a visible moment to regain composure. “I was doing you a favor,” he finally finishes, his voice low and venomous.

The words hurt more than a blow would as Fili contemplates the excruciatingly long days followed by the lonely nights, the sheets in his bed coldly draped against his solitary form. The sight of Kili’s bed, empty and beckoning, every remnant of his presence completely erased… “Try not to do me any more favors.”

          “What do you want then?” Kili snarls through gritted teeth. “I’ve done everything I can think of Fili, and it doesn’t work, everything I do just goes wrong and I’m tired of fucking up, I’m tired of hurting, I don’t want to anymore…Just…what do you _want?_ ” Kili whines, even as he jerks against Fili’s hold.

          Fili barks out a shout of bitter laughter in Kili’s face. “What do…what do I want?” How is it possible that Kili doesn’t understand? “I want everything to be easy again.” He doesn’t think that he spoke loud enough for Kili to hear him but the bowman reacts to the words as if he’s been stung.

          “Then why don’t you just let me go?” The archer’s voice is little more than a hoarse whisper. “Just…please Fili, just let me go…”

           “I don’t _want_ to!”

          “Mahal, what do you—“

          “I want you!” Fili spits down at Kili and the confession sounds nothing like how he imagined it would. In his mind it was tender, soft, full of heat and yearning—now it sounds like a curse, spiteful and jagged in the emptiness of the impersonal room. “Mahal damn me but I just want _you.”_ Kili gapes at him, the whites of his eyes clearly visible in the darkness of the room. Several aborted protests jump at Fili but he ignores them.

          “So don’t _ever_ tell me that you leaving is doing me a favor. Do you know how it felt, going into that room and seeing that you’d gone? Not knowing if I was ever going to see you again and knowing that if I didn’t it would be my fault?”

          “I thought…I thought it’s what you wanted…” Kili whimpers. “I thought…I thought after what had happened that you hated me…I tried…You didn’t want me to touch you so I thought…how could you still want me, after I forced you?”

          “After you…” Fili unconsciously releases his hold on Kili’s wrists and sits up straight. Kili remains huddled against the mattress, eyes wide and uncertain as they rove over his frame. “You didn’t force me.” He remembers well the wanting, dark and damning, which had coiled in his belly as Kili had worked over his body.

          “But you…after you didn’t even want me to touch you…”

          “You didn’t give me any time!” Fili snaps. “You just…I was trying _so hard_ to do the right thing, the responsible thing...and then you just came in and…Do you know how much it hurt, listening to you come in stumbling drunk every night and knowing that I was the reason why?”

          “You could have stopped it,” Kili whispers. “You were the one who said that it was sick.”

          Kili’s voice thickens with pain and Fili flinches as he remembers those words tumbling from his lips. He had been trying to convince himself, dragging out every curse against what he felt in order to force himself away from Kili. Hurting Kili had never been what he wanted.

          “Kili…” Fili reaches out, only to have Kili slap his hand away.

          “No, _you_ said it was sick, _you_ pulled away…And then you say that you still want me? Stop _playing_ with me Fili!”

          “You think this is a game to me?” Fili roars, uncaring of who he might have awoken. “You think that I… _Gods,_ Kili, how can you even think that about me?”

          “I don’t know what to think about you!” Kili wails as he lunges forward and takes hold of two handfuls of Fili’s shirt. Kili shakes him hard enough to send his braids flying around his face. “I want to hate you because you don’t know how much you _hurt,_ when you pull away, when you manage to stand tall while I’m falling apart…”

          “You want to know hurt? Try going for weeks not knowing where you are, not even knowing if you’re alive or dead—and at nights all you can see is blood and death and knowing that if something had happened to you it would be my fault…And then I found you and saw that all of my worst nightmares had come true…”

          Kili gasps for breath and his eyes glitter as he stares at Fili. When he wraps his hands around Kili’s wrists Fili feels the rapid pulse beating against his skin as well as the subtle tremble of Kili’s hands.

          “I didn’t have any time,” Fili finishes. “I…gods Kili, I was so disgusted with myself because it was my job to keep us both safe, keep us apart…and you must know that it’s wrong—“

          “Shut up,” Kili orders fiercely as he takes Fili’s face in his hands. “Just shut up about what’s wrong and what’s responsible and what you should do.” Fingertips press hard against his scalp and Kili’s face is dangerously close, close enough that Fili can see a single tear clinging to dark eyelashes. When he speaks, even though his voice catches and his whole body trembles Kili’s eyes never leave his, the flame within the deep brown sparking and giving Fili the strength to hold the archer’s gaze. “What do you want?”

          Fili whimpers as his fingers spasm around Kili’s wrists. “You,” he finally whispers as his forehead rests against Kili’s. “Only you. Always you.”

          Kili makes a sound that could either be a laugh or a sob as his fingers shakily move against his hair. “Yeah?” he whispers. “Me too.”

          At that admission, Fili collapses into Kili, fingers clutching him closer as he sobs into the brunette’s chest. Kili clings to him, until Fili’s not sure who is supporting who. All he knows is the feel of Kili’s arms, the tangle of dark hair around his blonde, the painful elation which he keens into Kili’s shoulder.

           “Fili,” Kili reverently murmurs. “ _Fili…_ Mahal, I didn’t even let myself hope, it hurt too much…I’m sorry, I’m sorry for everything…”

          This time it is Fili who takes Kili’s face within his hands, his palms scraping against the dark scruff on Kili’s jaw. His thumb scrubs at a tear track running across the high cheekbone. “Shut up,” he orders. His chest swells and it’s too much, sweetness that’s too potent to be real pulsing through his veins. “Just…just stop because I’m here now and I don’t care, none of that matters…”

          Even though he only said it to quiet Kili, Fili suddenly realizes that it’s true. All of the pain of previous weeks is forgotten in the comfort of Kili’s arms and he’s already forgiven everything. Already the agony’s faded to a vague memory, the foul loneliness unable to stand in face of the overwhelming joy and adoration. Still, for all that, there is still one last apology that he has to give.

          “I love you,” he whispers into the fine curls at Kili’s temples. “I never, for a second, ever stopped…”

          “Neither did I.” Kili’s lips move against the heated skin of his throat as the archer speaks. “Every second of every day…I love you so much that it _hurts…”_

          Fili crushes Kili to his chest, so hard that the bowman yips as his wound is jostled. Fili relaxes his grip but only by a small amount. He breathes Kili in—the scent is slightly different, obscured by the sharp burn of the ointment on his back, but the _feel_ is the same and Fili sobs as he realizes that this is his—Kili in his arms, alive, whole, and _his,_ undeniably, undoubtedly, _his._ There are words which still need to be said, apologies and explanations to be given and Fili still hasn’t quite figured out how the two of them will pass through the tangled webs which still weave around them. But for now Kili’s heat mingles with his and the archer’s long fingers hold onto his with tenacious desperation.

         Their trembling lips finally meet and tentatively brush, rediscovering familiar territory and even though Mahal the Maker probably frowns down upon them, the kiss feels like a benediction, like something sacred blooming just for them.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And sometimes I'm nice.


	23. Stars are Kissing Your Cheeks Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are talks and then...there are _talks_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the second to last chapter guys!!!!!!
> 
> -weeps-
> 
> But in case there are any of you who are unaware--There WILL be a continuation piece. So don't fret, I'll be back to angst you up before too long. 
> 
> Kiss kiss.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

         

         

           Kili wakes to an empty bed.

          The outline of Fili’s body is still visible and Kili traces the rumpled sheets with his finger, chasing the lingering warmth which still clings to the fabric. His heart starts to beat painfully hard in his chest as he finds a stray blonde hair on the pillow next to him and holds it to the morning light. Maybe it was nothing but a dream after all…

          The door creaks open and Kili tenses before his face splits in a wide smile. Fili bashfully grins at him and closes the door behind him with his foot, as his hands hold tray full of breakfast.

          “I didn’t want to wake you,” Fili explains as he sets the tray down on the bed. “Told Dwalin that you were still too weak to get out of bed.”

          “You’ll make me sound like an invalid,” Kili mumbles around a mouthful of potatoes and sausage. Fili just chuckles and reaches out to help himself to a strip of bacon. Between the two of them the food disappears in short order. After the last plate has been cleared Kili happily flops on his stomach and watches Fili neatly stack the plates on the tray before the blonde stretches out beside him.

          Kili remains still as Fili’s fingers map out the contours of his face, down to his neck and arms. Goosepimples prickle as nails gently scratch against the base of his neck, just underneath the collar of his shirt. With a soft murmur, Kili turns his face towards Fili’s, eyes closed and lips slightly parted. Fili obeys the silent request for a kiss, lips pressing together in a kiss which, though soft lacks none of the fire which Kili knows burns beneath Fili’s skin.

          Fili’s thick finger traces the line of his eyebrow as they part. “We’ll never be able to tell anyone,” he says and Kili closes his eyes in silent acknowledgment. Even though he already knew this, it’s still different to hear it said aloud.

          “Mahal, how am I supposed to hide this?” he whispers as his hands tighten around Fili’s braids. “How can we?” For he feels that his devotion to Fili is writ plain on his face, in every move which he makes, where anyone can read it.

          “We have to,” Fili answers, voice low and earnest. “Kili…everything’s different now—I _love_ you and nothing will ever change that…but to the rest of the world we’re just brothers…” Fili closes his eyes and Kili wants to take his burdens away, lift that weight off of his shoulders if only for a short minute. He knows, however, that Fili will never let him. Kili settles for rubbing small circles into Fili’s chest, feeling the tense muscles relax underneath his touch.

          Kili hesitates before speaking the thought which has lingered in his mind all day. “We could leave,” he suggests. Fili’s eyes snap open and stare at him as he continues. “We could go somewhere else, some village where no one knows who we are and we could be just us…”

          Fili smiles at him and for a moment Kili lets himself imagine that future—they could open a smithing shop somewhere—even go to a village of Men. Men might be snobbish about certain cultural aspects of Dwarves but when it comes to smithing even they have to admit that the skill of Dwarves is unequaled. They could live above the shop, in their own small apartment—he could walk down the streets with Fili without having to make sure that there was an acceptable distance between them—the vision burns brightly before him, ripe with promise and hope, before Fili slowly shakes his head.

          “I can’t,” he says, face heavy with regret. Kili closes his eyes as that future fades into little more than a dull grey dream, already forgotten before it was ever fully realized. “I’m sorry Kili…I can’t…”

          “I know,” Kili murmurs as he kisses each of Fili’s knuckles. “I know.” And he does. He might wish that everything was different, he might wish that Fili could dismiss his responsibilities and upbringing but he knows that Fili—his older brother, his flawless golden lover—would never forgive himself if he fled like a thief in the night. And since Fili will not run, neither will he.

          “I don’t know how this is going to work,” Kili whispers, holding Fili’s hands to his lips so that they graze over his skin as he speaks. “I don’t know much of anything…how or why this happened the way that it did…but we’ll do this together.”

          Fili smiles at him and it looks like the sunrise coming over the mountains. It’s gorgeous and heartwarming and Kili thinks that if this is his reward, then living the rest of his life as a lie isn’t a small price to pay at all.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

          From the impish grin which flashes at him the next night, Fili knows that Kili’s feeling better. Fili returns the smile, his heart lightening and stuttering at the same time when he sees the mischievous glint in Kili’s eyes. For two days Kili’s refrained from anything more strenuous than trying to permanently wrap himself around Fili’s body and despite his body’s urgings to touch and caress every part of the archer that he can reach, Fili’s settled for holding him closely, listening to Kili’s heart beat and pressing light kisses into his hair. In truth it’s nothing short of perfect because it’s a privilege he never thought he would enjoy again but when Kili looks at him, his eyes broadcasting heated desire and he deliberately licks his lips it makes Fili’s heart lurch a little.

          Shaking fingers reach out for Kili and the bowman meets him halfway, lips abruptly crushing together. They press together for just a moment before Kili licks at the seam of Fili’s mouth and Fili eagerly allows him entrance. He carefully rearranges himself so that Kili lays overtop of him, elbows resting on his shoulders and fingers carelessly tangled in his hair.

          Fili easily hitches his leg up so that it rests solidly against Kili’s hip and he sighs in satisfaction as Kili continues to move against him. The pace is slow and languid and the desire which hums just underneath his skin swells with every brush of Kili’s lips against his, with every press of Kili’s fingers against his scalp.

          Fili whines in protest when Kili pulls away, his lips shiny with saliva and looks down on him with darkened eyes. “This…this is good right? This is okay?”

          Fili narrows his eyes and growls as his hand yanks Kili’s face back down to his. Kili makes a pleased noise in the back of his throat and Fili eagerly swallows it, his kisses increasing in fervor until he’s fairly worshipping Kili’s mouth with his own. Arousal sparks and ignites in his body and Fili moans into Kili’s mouth. Quite apart from any of the physical sensations which gallop through his body are the comforts of Kili’s scent in his nostrils, the steady beat of Kili’s heart pressed against his chest, and the knowledge that this is his, only his, always his.

          Fili shifts again so that he can hold Kili between his legs. Nervousness and excitement churn in his stomach as he carefully presses up into his brother so that their heated groins come into teasing contact. Kili breaks their contact to pant brokenly against his neck, his tongue briefly lapping at the skin on Fili’s throat. A slight shiver runs through Fili as Kili gazes down on him—he knows what he wants, knew what he was going to ask from the moment that Kili licked his lips but now that the time’s finally come he’s almost afraid to continue. Then Kili smiles down at him, nothing but tenderness and devotion in his eyes as he strokes Fili’s hair and Fili doesn’t know how he ever lived without that smile.

          “Kili,” he whispers as he presses feather light kisses to the long column of Kili’s throat. Kili moans in acknowledgement as Fili suckles a dark mark onto the juncture of Kili’s neck and shoulder, the sharp taste of salt heavy on his tongue.

          Kili finally jerks away from Fili’s mouth and looks down at him, his chest heaving as he fights to regain some semblance of control. Dark hair falls around his shoulders and the longer Fili looks at him the more his heart swells until it’s full almost to bursting, and it’s still not enough to express how much he _needs_ and _wants._  

          “Kili I want…” Fili begins and Kili grins at him as he deliberately rocks back against Fili’s swelling hardness.

          “I know.”  Kili starts to lean down but draws back in puzzlement as Fili emphatically shakes his head.

          “I want…” Fili falters but only for a moment as Kili’s face starts to crumple. “I want you to…” He can feel heat rising to his face and he finishes in a rush. “I want you to be _in_ me.”

          For a moment Kili stares stupidly at him before comprehension dawns in the bowman’s eyes. Kili’s throaty groan reverberates through Fili’s body as his fingers tighten in the golden hair. The archer’s hips snap forward as Kili buries his face in the crook of Fili’s neck. Fili shivers as Kili starts to grind against him, the blunt pressure of teeth on his neck only adding to his arousal.

          “Kili…” He groans as his knees clamp onto either side of Kili’s hips.

          “You don’t have to,” Kili finally says, his words muffled for being pressed into Fili’s skin. “You don’t have to if you don’t want.”

          “I do,” Fili replies, his voice firm. And he does, despite the small fluttering of anxiety in his chest. He’s sure that it will hurt, there’s no possible way that it won’t hurt, but the pain will hurt less for knowing that there’s no part of him which doesn’t belong to Kili. If he was able to he would give up everything he is, hard won calluses to the very blood pulsing in his veins, and lay it before the altar of love, the altar of Kili.

          Kili kisses him hard, fingers pressing brutally into his jaw and Fili returns his embrace with equal fervor. Fili outright whimpers when Kili pulls away with a loud gasp. He can feel the tremble through the archer’s body from where they press intimately against each other. A soft, satisfied sigh falls from Fili’s lips as Kili tugs at the hem of his shirt. Fili sits up, his own hands making short work of Kili’s shirt. When their flesh comes in direct contact Fili moans as his hands trace the muscled ridge of Kili’s abdomen down to the loosely knotted laces of his brother’s breeches. His fingers ghost over the prominent bulge in the fabric and Kili grips his shoulders as he throws his head back.

          “Fili…Fili… _Mahal,_ ” Kili groans as Fili makes short work of the ties and draws Kili’s cock into his hands. His eyes close as he savors the feeling of Kili in his hand, Kili’s skin against his, Kili murmuring praise and endearments.

          Fili’s so enraptured by watching Kili’s face that he almost misses Kili’s hands shoving insistently at his own pants. Realization eventually dawns and he reluctantly parts from Kili just long enough to remove the offending articles of clothing. Immediately after he sits back on the mattress Kili is on top of him, pressing him onto his back as he showers frantic kisses over his lips, jaw and neck. Fili allows Kili to thoroughly map out each and every facet of his body.

          Long fingers stroke down his side to his hips and Fili shifts his pelvis, groaning at the press of friction which strokes along his groin. A low sound of disapproval rumbles in his chest as Kili’s weight pressing down on his chest disappears, which changes into a hissed exhale as Kili starts to make his way down his chest, laving kisses and long strokes of his tongue down the expanse of fair skin. A sharp nip at his hip makes Fili groan and he feels Kili’s huff of laughter against his skin.

          “Kili,” he groans as he winds dark tendrils of hair around his fingers. _“Kili_ …” he sighs as a warm tongue curls around his achingly hard cock. Kili hums in response, the vibrations enough to make Fili’s eyes roll. Slowly, torturously slow, Kili takes him down his throat until finally all rational thought flees and Fili is left only with the _feel,_ with the _hot_ and _wet_ and it’s _so good…_ It’s pleasure and it’s _Kili_ , the dark hair against his skin, the soft moans mingling together…Fili gasps as Kili swallows around his length, tongue massaging the base.

          It’s maddening, what Kili’s doing, but also addicting, so much so that when Kili pulls off completely Fili can do little more than whine in needy disappointment. Kili silences him with a hard kiss before he swiftly rolls off the bed. Fili tries to regain his normal breathing patterns as he watches Kili rummage in his bags. After a few moments Kili straightens and slinks back to the bed.

          Fili catches sight of what Kili holds—a small vial, which, when Kili twists the top off, gives off the distinct odor of leather oil. He gulps nervously and flicks his eyes back to Kili’s face. Kili leans forward and kisses him, soft and gentle. Fili relaxes into the kiss, leaning into the hand which strokes along his jaw.

          “You don’t have to,” Kili whispers to him as they separate.

          Even though nervousness gnaws at him, Fili still shakes his head. “I want to,” he stubbornly insists.

          Kili plants a kiss right above where his heart beats so strongly Fili’s almost positive it can be seen through his skin. “Anytime you want me to stop just tell me,” he murmurs.

          “You have to start in order for me to tell you to stop,” Fili counters. Kili jerks up and fixes him with a disapproving glare. Fili raises a cool eyebrow and smirks as Kili’s eyes darken. The smirk fades from his face as Kili returns to his task with vigor, tongue rolling back the skin and teasing the slit in his cock.

          Fili’s sure that he can take the pain which will undoubtedly come but that doesn’t stop him from tensing when he feels a slick finger trail across his sac. Kili presses hard on the skin behind his balls and Fili bucks upward as it nudges something which he’s never felt before and sends white-hot arousal flooding through his veins. He’s just floating down from the sensation when he feels a pressure against his entrance. It’s only circling, not even pushing in and he still jerks as every one of his muscles tenses. Kili’s hand rubs soothingly over his hip, his mouth still works on his cock but all Fili can concentrate on is that insistent push against his most intimate of parts. He tries to force himself to relax but it’s like holding back the tide of a river with a pebble.

          After a few moments Kili pulls away and showers his lower abdomen with kisses. Fili watches him and clenches his fists in frustration. Kili’s eyes still hold love and passion but for the moment Fili remains untouched by it, too swallowed up in shame at his own limitations.

          “Keep going,” Fili grits out as his fingernails dig into the calloused skin of his palms.

          “No Fili,” Kili murmurs against his stomach. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

          “Damn it Kili,” Fili growls and Kili pulls up to look him properly in the eyes. “I want you to…I want you inside me,” he finishes. “I _do_ ,” he insists as a doubtful look comes into Kili’s deep brown eyes.

          “Fili…” Kili trails off as he traces small circles around Fili’s navel. Fili watches him worry his lower lip between his teeth before Kili looks back at him, a distinct sparkle in his eye. The pit of Fili’s stomach still burns with arousal which sparks further when Kili kisses him, strong and deep. “Roll over,” Kili orders.

          Fili raises a cautious eyebrow, unable to stop the trepidation bubbling in his chest. Kili’s hands trace over his chest, the touch light and teasing but the smile which splits his face has more than a hint of sharp desire. “Trust me,” Kili tells him as he strokes the left braid of his moustache. “Roll over.”

          And even though Fili has no idea what Kili’s planning he complies with his little brother’s wishes and shifts onto his stomach. “Put these underneath your hips,” Kili tells him, and Fili grabs the proffered pillows. He gingerly lowers himself, not missing the way that his ass is raised up in the air, higher than the rest of him. The friction of the rough fabric against his cock is a welcome distraction and he hisses as he shifts his pelvis. His hips thrust down once and he moans—not enough, not nearly enough. Hands smooth over his shoulders and Kili’s stubble scratches against the sensitive skin at the nape of his neck.

          “You want to wait for me?” he playfully drawls as he nips and mouths his way across Fili’s shoulders. Kili’s long fingers dance over his back, the touch not nearly enough to satisfy and Fili bites his lip to keep from whining in need. His skin feels like it’s on fire and Kili’s touch simultaneously soothes and ignites the flames within him.

          “Mahal Fili, you’re so gorgeous,” Kili whispers as his fingers trail lightly down Fili’s spine. Fili involuntarily bucks into the mattress as Kili’s fingers dance over the skin at his lower back, tracing just over his buttocks. Unconsciously Fili arches his back into the feather light touch, only to tense when he feels Kili’s nip at the cleft of his ass.

          “Relax,” Kili whispers as he presses a soft kiss to the same place. “Just relax love.”

          Fili nods, his eyes tightly shut and instead of the anticipation he focuses on the _feel_ instead, and he’s surprised when his body easily complies with his wishes. Even when Kili lightly trails his fingernails down his ass Fili doesn’t tense, though he does arch upwards, skin desperate for a firmer touch. When Kili’s mouth finally follows the path of his fingers Fili has no reaction except to moan softly.

          He twitches when Kili’s thumbs dip inside his cleft but Kili plants a sloppy kiss on his right hip and Fili sinks back down into the mattress. When Kili starts to spread him Fili whimpers but Kili ghosts a warm breath over his ass as he murmurs, “Trust me.”

          “I do,” Fili practically sobs, his whole body trembling, though not from fear this time. Kili’s hair brushes against his ass and hips, providing just another tantalizing tease, though that sensation is eclipsed by the feel of Kili’s tongue tracing between his cheeks.

          Fili’s eyes fly open as he yelps in surprise. “K— _Kili!”_ he cries as his hips jerk. He cranes his head to look backwards at Kili who grins at him. Fili’s mouth runs dry as he takes in Kili’s dark, lust-blown eyes.

          “All right?” Kili murmurs, somehow making the question sound perfectly innocent, even with his head poised seductively over his ass. “Need me to stop?” he asks and his voice sounds perfectly serious and caring.

          The heat of his flush spreads across his face and down his neck as Fili shakes his head. “Don’t,” he whispers before he swallows hard. “Don’t stop.”

          “Gorgeous,” Kili tells him and Fili is helpless in light of the grin which Kili bestows upon him. Fili blindly reaches backwards and a warm glow settles in his chest when Kili’s fingers lace within his and squeeze reassuringly. This time when Kili’s hands spread him open Fili shakily inhales and it still doesn’t prepare him for the almost painful arousal which shoots through him as the tip of Kili’s tongue traces around his entrance.

          Fili moans wantonly as Kili swipes the flat of his tongue over the puckered skin before flicking his tongue around the edges of his hole. It’s filthy and obscene but _Mahal_ , if it doesn’t feel deliciously sinful. Ignoring the burn in his back, Fili cranes his neck to see Kili’s dark head intently bowed before him and the sight is enough to send his hips bucking up towards his brother’s wicked tongue.

 The strain of constantly looking backwards proves too much and Fili’s head falls forward as a sobbing moan tears from his throat, his hips undulating as he pushes forward into the pillow and then backwards into Kili’s tongue. It almost comes as a relief when he feels Kili’s tongue prodding at his entrance. This time, the shudder which runs through his body has everything to do with pleasure as he finally relaxes enough to allow Kili to spear his tongue inside him.

          It’s like nothing he’s ever felt before and he softly cries out as his back arches up into Kili’s touch. Kili repeats his motions, thrusting in him again and again, each time pulling Fili higher into the cloud of desire. It makes his head spin and his hips tremble as Fili finally realizes that it’s not _enough_.

          “Kili,” he pants, stifling a moan as Kili retreats to tracing his rim. “ _Kili,_ ” he groans again as Kili suckles tenderly on the sensitive skin. “Please, I need…I…”

          “What do you need?” Kili asks him, his low gravelly voice sending another shiver through Fili’s body.

          “More,” Fili whispers as he clutches the sheets hard between his fingers. “I need… _gods_ Kili, please…” He buries his face in the rough sheets and Kili runs a soothing hand down his back.

          “My perfect prince,” Kili murmurs, and Fili’s about to mention that that particular endearment applies to both of them but then Kili’s tongue sweeps across his entrance once more and all rational thoughts are swiftly wiped from his mind. This time when the slickened finger runs over his skin Fili arches up with a whine.

          The first press inside burns and Fili can’t help the awkward shuffle of his hips against the pillow. His body’s torn between wanting to press backwards and take more or squirming away from the touch altogether. Kili stills the motion of his hand but still lavishes heated kisses on his flesh and Fili’s thankful for the distraction.

          “All right?” Kili murmurs.

          “Yeah,” Fili sighs finally. “Doesn’t hurt…just…feels weird.” Kili slides his finger forward slowly and Fili consciously monitors his breathing as he tries to still his body’s efforts to wriggle. It becomes easier when Kili returns to tracing the edges of his hole with the tip of his tongue. With a drawn-out moan Fili relaxes and Kili’s finger slides fully into him.

          “All right?” Kili asks again, his free hand caressing every inch of Fili’s skin which it can reach. Fili nods fervently as Kili starts a painfully slow rhythm which has Fili arching up into his touch. Kili’s hand on his hip pins him from moving too much and it’s maddening—

          “Mahal,” Fili gasps as Kili’s increases his speed. “ _Gods_ Kili it’s…” He wants to say more, describe to Kili exactly what he’s feeling but Kili’s tongue is on him again, outlining the finger buried within him just before Kili pulls out altogether. Fili makes a rumble of disappointment only to have his breathing catch as he feels a second finger tracing his entrance. This push inside burns more but it fades quicker, leaving Fili just with the sensation of being _filled_ and the expectation of _more._

           Kili’s fingers move within him and anticipation curls in the pit of Fili’s stomach just before they brush against _something_ that makes him buck up into Kili’s hand as he cries out in an incoherent babble of Khuzdul and Westron and begs for _more, more, yes, GODS…_

Kili eases off of the spot inside him long enough for Fili to suck in a few sobbing breaths. The hard line of his cock presses against his stomach and the stickiness of his own pre-cum rubs against his stomach. The burning ache still prickles but it blends so well with the pleasure that he welcomes the sensation.

          “Mahal Fili, you look fucking perfect,” Kili whispers and Fili’s not sure whether or not he was supposed to hear that, but he still arches back, head tilted towards Kili in a wordless plea. Kili’s lips meet his, the angle awkward and uncomfortable but the contact is everything that Fili could possibly want. He whimpers into Kili’s mouth and the brunette swallows his cry.

          “Kili,” Fili pants, his lips sliding away from Kili’s with a wet smear. Kili presses kisses into his sweat-darkened hair, the curve of his shoulder, the small juts of his spine. “Kili, please.”

          “What do you need?” Kili whispers, and Fili makes a sound somewhere between a cry and a moan as a third finger breeches him. Fili thinks that he’s being played like an instrument—Kili doesn’t hit that spot within him except on every third or so thrust, leaving Fili a quivering, panting mess with every nerve tingling in anticipation. He bucks into Kili’s hand as the archer relentlessly massages within him.

          “Kili… _Kili_!” Fili finally cries as his fingernails tear at the sheets and his back curves into a perfect arch.

          “All right?” Kili asks. His voice sounds rougher than normal but there’s nothing but concern in his tone.

          “I’m not…if you keep that up I’m not going to last long,” Fili admits, his voice tapering off into a high moan as Kili rubs within him.

Kili’s fingers move within him, stretching and thrusting as Fili allows control spin away from him. High, keening whines mingle with pleas in different languages and Fili doesn’t bother to try to hold any sounds back. He’s long since passed the point of worry and now all he needs is _more—_ more to fill him, more sensation, more of _Kili._

          He wants his words to be meaningful and sweet, something to let Kili know exactly how much this means to him, how it would only ever be him, that Kili’s the only person in the world that Fili would trust enough to do this with…That having Kili’s hair brush over the skin on his back as the archer’s lips move over the nape of his neck makes his skin flame and his soul fly…

          “Kili, please,” Fili starts before his voice catches in his throat, coming out thin and breathy and completely desperate. “Please, I need you…”

          From Kili’s strangled whimper Fili guesses that maybe, this time, it was enough. Kili’s hair spreads across his back as fervent, heated kisses fall on his spine, hips, and shoulders—anywhere which Kili can reach is thoroughly worshipped. Fili cants his head backwards as Kili’s steady rhythm falters and he moans as he sees Kili’s free hand smearing oil over his cock. Kili meets his gaze, his eyes almost black and Fili unconsciously licks his lips.

          Before Kili has a chance to shift back between his legs Fili props himself up on one elbow and grabs for him. “Not like this,” Fili stammers, watching Kili’s lust-darkened eyes rove over his body before the archer finally turns that intense stare onto him. “I want…I want to see you.”

          “Yes,” Kili breathes out before he slides up Fili’s body to kiss him hungrily. “ _Gods,_ yes.” Fili rolls so that he’s on his back, pillow still awkwardly plumped underneath his ass. The angle feels strange, having his pelvis higher than his head but he doesn’t really care, not when his aching prick’s finally exposed to the cool air of the room. Kili situates himself between his legs and Fili clamps his thighs around the archer’s slender frame as he greedily wraps his arms around Kili.

          “Mahal,” Fili pleads as his fingers twine in Kili’s dark tresses. Their mouths move against each other with the desperation of the damned, tongues tangling and teeth nipping. Fili’s fingers tighten their grip in Kili’s hair as he rips his mouth away from Kili. It’s too much, love, desire, need, fear, passion, all crashing against each other in a violent, vicious storm within him—too much and yet, not enough, not ever enough, not when Kili pulls away and runs a soothing palm over his forehead.

          “You’re shaking,” Kili notes and Fili helplessly nods as his legs tighten around Kili’s waist in silent supplication. The kiss which Kili presses to his sweaty forehead lingers, long enough for Fili’s nose to press against the rough stubble on Kili’s throat before he buries his face in Kili’s shoulder.

          “I love you,” Kili murmurs, as his long fingers stroke down his braids to his neck. Kili cups the back of his head and simply holds him as Fili breathes him in. “I’m not leaving, not ever, I promise.”

          Fili’s grip tightens as he nods against Kili’s shoulder, tension leaving his body in huge shuddering waves as Kili’s words sink into him. “My perfect prince,” Kili whispers into his hair, nuzzling his cheek against the blonde mane. “I’ll never leave you.”

          This time when their lips meet the press is deep but not frantic and Fili drifts into the swirl of contrasts, of chapped lips and soft tongues, of sweetness and hunger, the slow pace steadily feeding the flames which smolder within his blood. Kili moans into his mouth and Fili’s cock twitches in response.

          “Now?” Fili asks, his lips against Kili’s cheekbone. Kili jerks his head as he exhales shakily. Kili reaches to the side and shakes what little of the oil remains into his palm before he pulls away. Fili cannot tear his eyes away from the sight of Kili slicking himself, hand moving in short little jerks as Kili chews on his lower lip, eyes focused on Fili. With a low groan Kili moves forward, settling on his knees between Fili’s legs. Heart pounding in his chest, Fili spreads and Kili runs his hand down his inner thigh before giving him a few jerks, just enough to tease.

          “I love you,” Kili says and Fili nods, not trusting his voice. He sucks in deep breaths but it doesn’t seem to help his light-headedness as Kili hooks an elbow beneath his knee and pushes forward.

          The pressure against his entrance makes Fili whimper. Harsh pants hiss through his teeth and he shuts his eyes against the burn which settles in his lower half. He can feel tears leaking through his eyelashes and he hates himself for being so weak but it _burns…_ The pleasure weakly spikes and flares but for the moment all Fili knows is the slow press inward.

          “Easy, easy, you’re doing so well,” Kili praises as his lips find the track of Fili’s tears. “This is the hardest part, you’re doing beautifully, just breathe…” Fili parts his lips and his next whimper is lost in the comfort of Kili’s mouth.

          Finally, eternities later, it seems like the harsh pressure has eased and the banked fire of pleasure sparks dully. Fili pants as the spark quickens and ignites further, spurred on by Kili’s movements.

          He looks up at the archer and moans in appreciation. Only a thin ring of brown remains around the blown pupils and sweat plasters strands of dark hair to the pale forehead. Kili’s chest visibly moves with each breath and Fili’s eyes travel down past the thin waist and hips to where their bodies meet. He looks up to Kili’s face once more and his arousal spikes at Kili’s slack mouth.

          “ _G—Gods_ Fee,” Kili moans, his fingers digging into the muscle of Fili’s leg. “It’s…you’re…” Kili moans as his head falls forward and he pushes the last bit. Fili gasps as Kili’s hips slot firmly against him and his innards flutter as he desperately tries to adjust.

          _“Fuck,”_ Fili groans, the expletive falling easily from his lips. It feels natural, as natural as having Kili inside him, as natural as being inside Kili. “Kili…”

          “Good?” Kili asks, trembling fingers brushing against his jaw. Fili turns his head to kiss the digits, swiping his tongue across the pad of a finger. Kili moans, a low and needy rumble. “I’m going to move now, all right?”

          “Yeah.” Fili breathes deeply. It still feels uncomfortable and he’s well aware of the painful ache but overtop all of it still remains the pleasure which pools directly in the pit of his stomach and slowly reaches out, encompassing all of him.

          “Mahal Fili, you’re so gorgeous, fuck, you’re perfect… _fuck…”_ Kili grimaces as he slowly pulls out and equally slowly pushes back in. The hand resting on Fili’s hip spasms and grips and Fili tightly laces their fingers together. As Kili continues moving, Fili’s body opens and relaxes. His head falls back as he surrenders himself, his one hold on the world clasped within his grip on Kili’s hand.

          Kili moves steadily, a litany of love and praise falling from his lips. Fili floats pleasantly on until—With a single, angled thrust, Kili tears his veil of languid desire away and replaces it with something fierce and hungry. Fili’s hoarse cry echoes through the room and his back arches as jolts of sensation shoot through his body. His grip tightens on Kili to the point that he can feel the bones underneath his fingertips.

          “Fucking gorgeous,” Kili murmurs as he rolls his hips forward again. With a desperate move Fili jerks Kili towards him, tangles his fingers in the wild dark hair and frantically presses his lips to any flesh which he can reach. His tongue slides into Kili’s mouth and he moans brokenly as Kili eagerly drinks in his debauching.

          The coil of desire tightens and Fili starts to tremble in anticipation. Kili kisses his cheek, runs a hot tongue up his exposed throat. “Fili,” the archer whispers, grunting as he pushes into him. “Are you close?”

          Fili nods brokenly, too far-gone in need to even think about shame.

          “Come for me then _azyungal,”_ Kili whispers and Fili bucks up as a sure hand wraps around his cock. He releases his tight grasp of Kili’s hair, realizing that his grip is harsh enough to hurt, and fists the sheets instead, tearing small rips in the fabric as he helplessly thrashes his head. Everything builds within him, so tight, so wonderful—Continuous cries and pleas fall from his lips, punctuated by Kili’s moans. Something soft lands in his mouth and Fili ruthlessly bites down before he tastes metal and realizes that it’s his own braid he’s savaging. He spits it out and whimpers as Kili’s words finally penetrate through the fog.

          “Fili please, come for me,” the archer moans as his hand works over him in time with his thrusts. “Gods, Fee, I’m so close, I need you to come, please love, please come…”

          The words, combined with a cunning twist of the wrist and one last thrust, are enough to send Fili careening. With a wild, keening wail he comes and streaks of white paint his chest and Kili’s hand. White-hot intensity grips his body and his eyes roll back as he shudders uncontrollably. _“Fuck, Fili, fuckfuckfuck FILI”_ reaches his ears as Kili’s hips stutter into his pliant body. Kili’s hair surrounds him as the brunette collapses onto his elbows, barely managing to avoid crushing the now-boneless swordsman.

          Small shakes still roll through his body for minutes afterward. Kili finally drops his full weight upon him, smearing the mess between them even further. Fili winces in discomfort as Kili’s softening cock slips out of him and Kili presses a kiss to the corner of his eye before pillowing his head on his shoulder. Fili wraps a heavy arm around the archer, noting the small tremors which still run through Kili’s muscles. Sleep already beckons and even though he’s filthy and covered in sweat and his own seed, Fili finds himself falling victim to its siren call.

          “Heavy,” he mumbles at Kili. “Get off.”

          Kili yawns against his skin as he wriggles happily on his chest. “Just did.”

          Fili cuffs him lightly on the back of the head and Kili just chuckles as he slides off. The brunette immediately presses himself against Fili’s chest, his nose pressing into Fili’s collarbone. Fili wrinkles his nose at the sticky mess on his stomach and whispers his gratitude when Kili tugs an unused sheet up to wipe him off. Kili settles back into his side, their bodies fitting together as though they were created for this purpose.

          “Mahal,” Fili whispers reverently as he revels in the feel of Kili’s cooling skin against his and the subtle press of limbs entangling. A gentle glow moves throughout him, suffusing his limbs with comfortable warmth. Fili holds Kili close to him as he finally feels the frayed edges of his heart knit back together. Not complete, not yet, there’s still the hurt of weeks of heal and above them both, the shadow of deceit and taboo still hangs, yet this, right now—

          “Love you,” Kili whispers, his voice thick with sleep and hoarse from previous activities.

          It shouldn’t be possible for his heart to be so full and not burst but here he is, holding the most precious treasure he could have ever found and he doesn’t think that he could wish for anything more.

          _“Atamanel,”_ he whispers into Kili’s hair. The words come nowhere close to expressing what he feels but Kili pushes further into him. Fili never relinquishes his hold, even as he feels the heavy curtain of sleep approaching.

          “ _Atamanel,”_ he repeats softly. “Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because as much as I adore a toppy!Fili, nothing quite beats a bottom!Fili for me.
> 
> Atamanel-breath of all breaths


	24. Home is Wherever I'm with You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tying up of loose ends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well...Here we are, at the end. 
> 
> If I gave thanks to every single person who helped me or gave me the warm fuzzies then we would be here all day. If I don't give you an individual shoutout, please don't be offended with me...Just know that you _are_ unbelievably appreciated and I couldn't have finished this project if you hadn't been reviewing, giving kudos and generally just being lovely, along every step of the way. 
> 
> Thank you.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

          In the morning both Kili and Fili make their way downstairs for a quick meal. Fili’s arm is thrown around Kili’s waist and Kili supposes that it looks as though Fili’s helping him walk—even though he’s more supporting Fili through his awkward limp. Once in the dining area Kili’s eyes spy the large form of Dwalin in the corner. His first impulse is to turn and go back up the stairs but Fili turns next to him and starts walking towards the tattooed dwarf.

          Dwalin’s eyes flick up towards them and linger where Fili’s arm wraps around Kili’s waist. “You think you’re healed enough to start out today?” he asks Kili.

          It sounds like a question but Kili senses that there’s only one answer that Dwalin will accept. His stomach squirms uncomfortably as he remembers that Dwalin was supposed to be in the room next to them last night…and neither one of them had been worried about being quiet. Kili’s body tenses in anticipation to the explosion he knows will be forthcoming and Fili’s hand tightens on his waist in reaction.

          Dwalin evenly meets his gaze and there’s knowledge lurking in their depths but Kili finds no rage directed at him. Instead, there’s something which is almost compassionate, and that disarms him more than anger would.  

          “Get your belongings packed after you eat. I’ll see about getting another pony.” Kili’s heart sinks at the thought of riding but Fili’s barely audible moan of horror is so much worse. He swears that he sees Dwalin’s lips twitch before he stands and strides outside.

          “Mahal,” Fili weakly whispers once he carefully sits down. “A whole day of riding?” He looks up at Kili, forlorn and horrified, and Kili can do nothing more than try to comfort him with a firm pat on the shoulder.

          “Sorry,” Kili mumbles as he sits next to Fili. He glares at the table surface and picks at a burn mark. His fault—but he still can’t bring himself to fully regret it, sinking into the tight heat, the ecstasy on Fili’s face as he had tumbled further into bliss…No, he doesn’t regret it and that just makes the guilt worse.

          Fili leans into him and bumps his shoulder. Kili hisses lightly in reproach but the sound sputters into nothing when he sees the bashful tilt to Fili’s lips. “I’m not.” Fili’s cheeks dust a light pink as his grin turns positively devilish. “It was worth it and then some.” Fili’s blush turns darker as he ducks his head and starts in on food, while Kili stares him. How in Mahal’s name did he ever deserve this fascinating creature?

          It’s a struggle to keep his hands to himself and Kili breathes a sigh of relief as Fili finishes and starts towards the stairs, his gait still awkward but smoother than it had been. Kili obediently follows, slipping into the room behind Fili. Once the door closes behind him Kili closes the distance between them, wrapping his arms around Fili’s waist as he rests his chin on Fili’s shoulder. Fili tenses a little at the unexpected contact but easily returns the embrace, turning his head to brush a kiss along Kili’s cheek. Kili sighs and burrows his nose into the soft fabric of Fili’s tunic, breathing in deep the clean smell of soap and Fili. After a long moment Fili pulls back and Kili lets him, fighting the urge to cling to the comfort of the swordsman’s embrace. “Are you going to be all right?” Fili asks, his fingers playing along Kili’s jawline as Kili reluctantly meets his eyes.

          Kili hesitates for a second too long as his doubts come roaring back to plague him, only further inflamed from their proximity—how are he and Fili supposed to keep their bond a secret when his only urge is to touch, to love? He meets Fili’s calm blue eyes and forces out one deep breath, then another. He can do it. For Fili, he thinks he might be able to do anything.

          “As long as you’re here,” Kili finally answers. It sounds overly maudlin to his ears and Fili gives him a small push with his fingertips but Kili doesn’t miss the small pleased smile which flashes across the swordsman’s face.

          “Get your things together,” Fili orders and Kili smiles fondly as he obeys. It takes him a matter of moments to pack and he watches Fili as the blonde carefully folds his cloak and meticulously ties the straps of his bag. After a few moments Fili looks up at him. “What?”

          “Just…come here,” Kili finally sighs. Fili complies and as the blonde comes within reach Kili seals their mouths together. Kili clutches onto Fili’s gauntlets as a dizzying rush of pure happiness sweeps through him. This is his: this perfect prince, this dream which has finally come true. Kili grins against Fili’s mouth, trying to pour all of his gratitude and love into the simple chaste contact. The blonde hums in response as his hand gently cups the back of Kili’s head. Eventually they separate, though Kili still keeps his loose hold on Fili’s wrists as he affectionately nips at Fili’s nose.

          “Stop it,” Fili orders with a laugh in his voice. He pushes Kili away and Kili relishes in the shove, loving the way that Fili’s fingers linger on his chest, the way the pads push in and massage for a brief second before contact is broken. Feeling happier than he has in weeks, Kili sticks his tongue out at Fili, who rolls his eyes as he jerks his head towards the door. “Come on, _ukrad._ ” The swordsman strides off down the stairs, Kili trotting happily behind him.

          They leave the dim lighting of the inn for the bright morning sun of the street and Kili blinks to clear his vision. When the bright rays cease scorching his eyes Fili is already a few steps ahead of him and he pauses to take in the bright glint of the golden locks in the rising morning sun. It reminds him of the first time he saw Fili, shining in the midst of a crowded street in Ered Luin. From the moment their eyes had met, cerulean latching onto chocolate, he’d been drawn in, the compass of his heart pointing towards Fili. Even now, the arrow still directs him there.

          “Master Kili.”

          The soft, low voice breaks his train of thought and Kili whirls around, mind already racing. Only one person has ever addressed him in that manner. Kili easily finds the speaker: a tall Man sits on a bench outside the inn, boots crusted with mud and cloak stained with travel. The kind, amused eyes of Estel meet his and a wide smile breaks across Kili’s face.

          “What are you doing here?” Kili asks stupidly as he takes a step closer.

          Estel smiles as he straightens out his ridiculously long legs. “Bree is one of the main towns which I visit. I might ask what you are doing here. When last I saw you, you were headed towards Ered Luin. Were you sidetracked?”

          “No,” Kili automatically answers and then thinks back to when he first entered the town. At that moment all he’d wanted was somewhere where he could be in peace, a place where he could start anew without any hard stares or threats following him. Instead he’d found…Involuntarily he glances behind him, meeting Fili’s curious eyes. “And yes,” Kili decides.

          “Ah,” Estel said, a world of understanding held within the simple syllable. His eyes crinkle as his cheeks split wide in a pleased smile. “You found what you were looking for? A place to belong?”

          Kili thinks of Fili’s arm thrown over his waist in sleep, the desperate kisses bestowed on his face, the silly grin as Kili tousles his hair. Fili, whispering _Atamanel_ into his hair before he falls into sleep. Bofur’s laugh, Bombur’s cakes, Bifur’s cards, Gloin’s gruff pride—yes, even Dwalin’s stony silence and Thorin’s flashing eyes—and Fili, _gods, Fili…_ Kili grins and years lift off his shoulders as he finally accepts the fact that he’s loved that… “Yeah. I’ve got some place to belong.”

          Fili’s sure steps sound behind him and Kili smiles at the push of possessive fingers against his side. At the gentle nudge Kili moves to the side and the blonde prince situates himself firmly in front of Estel. “Fili, at your service,” he says, bowing at the waist. Estel inclines his head in acknowledgement.

          “Well met, Master Fili.” Fili bows once more before turning his attention to Kili.

          “Dwalin’s got our mounts tacked. He’s ready to depart.”

          “Understood,” Kili acknowledges. “Just…give me a moment?” Fili’s eyes search his for a moment before the swordsman darts his eyes towards Estel. Kili suppresses the smile which threatens to overtake his face at Fili’s transparent protectiveness.

          “A moment,” Fili agrees before he jerkily bows and walks away. Kili watches him take a stance just a few yards away, barely out of earshot. When he turns back to Estel a wry, understanding grin splits the Ranger’s face.

          “I won’t keep you Master Kili,” Estel promises. “Though I do wish you the very best of luck.” Estel reaches out a hand and Kili tightly clasps it, feeling the grip of a friend returned.

          “Mahal keep you,” Kili murmurs when their hands part. He’s never been particularly devout but the words come unbidden and once uttered, sit comfortably between them. Estel places his hand over his heart and murmurs something Kili doesn’t understand, the words melodious and lilting.

          “Go,” Estel bids him after a short moment where Kili awkwardly shuffles his feet. “Before your companion fetches you.” Kili darts a glance over his shoulder—Fili’s toe impatiently taps at the ground while his fingers drum an irregular beat against his hip. Kili estimates that he has half a minute before the blonde interrupts.

          “Good luck to you!” Kili wishes as he turns and scampers towards Fili. The blonde’s face softens once he comes closer and, in spite of, or perhaps because of Estel’s quiet scrutiny, Kili darts forward and daringly pecks Fili’s lips.

          “Be careful,” Fili warns as he fiddles with his moustache braids to obscure the smile tugging at his lips.

          Kili cheekily tugs at the right side braid, earning a disgruntled eyebrow from Fili. Childish glee makes him reckless and buoyant, so much so, that for the moment, he can even disregard Fili’s reasonable warning as nothing more than overcautious brooding.

          “You’re not allowed to start worrying yet,” he tells Fili as he stealthily slips his hand into the calloused grip of the swordsman. “You’ll have plenty of time to worry once we’re home. For now just enjoy yourself.”

          Fili’s lips part in a wide, delighted grin as his eyes grow misty. “Home,” he whispers, squeezing Kili’s hand before he releases it, though their fingers remain close enough to brush. “We’re going home.”

          Kili returns the smile, bright, honest joy blazing through him as he looks into Fili’s ocean deep eyes and thinks _I already am home._

 -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

         

          Fili’s good mood lingers for the next two days as they make their way back to Ered Luin. Now that the fervent tension has dissipated their travelling party is raucous, as Dwalin teaches them drinking songs which grow bawdier each verse. It doesn’t take long before Kili sings along with him, going so far as to add in his own words when Dwalin forgets a line. After a few such occurrences, Fili suspects that Dwalin’s ‘forgetting’ on purpose, just for the sheer enjoyment of listening to Kili’s vile attempts at rhyming.

          When Kili sings a particularly explicit verse about knowing the favors of a woman Fili frowns in displeasure. He’s not accustomed to feeling jealousy, yet it still seeps into him, filling him with a gnawing uncertainty. His irritation fades when Kili catches his eye. The heat in his gaze is enough to send the slow beat of desire humming in Fili’s blood and despite the humor which he provides, he suddenly curses Dwalin’s presence. That night, if they take longer gathering firewood than is strictly necessary Dwalin doesn’t ask them about it. Nor does he question the bedrolls which are placed closely together or the way which Kili curls into him when he wakes to take his watch.

          On the third morning Fili voices the idea which has been niggling at the back of his mind and he has the pleasure of watching Kili’s face break into a wide grin before, unheeding of any audience, he throws himself into the blonde’s arms. From over Kili’s shoulders, Dwalin grins before he takes a map out of his saddlebags.

          “Aye,” he says as a tattooed finger traces the twisting roads which lead towards their goal. “That’ll be easy enough to manage.”

 

 -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

          The stack of ceramic pottery wobbles precariously as Dis tries to rearrange the bowls to her satisfaction. The sound of the door opening distracts her for only a moment but the slip in concentration makes her hand brush against a bowl, knocking it askew. Unmindful of customers, she curses and grabs for the merchandise, her fingers just barely missing it.

          Just as she’s preparing herself for the inevitable shatter and subsequent apologies and cleaning, nimble fingers pluck the bowl out of midair. Dis narrows her eyes before casting them upwards, towards the face she’s missed for months.

          “Awfully clumsy of you mother,” Kili grins as he waves the bowl at her stunned face. Dis snatches the pottery out of his hand and tosses it aside. Kili winces at the crash before he yelps as her arms engulf him in a fierce embrace.

          “Mum, easy, you’re going to break me!” At his protests Dis releases him and takes more time to inspect his face. As she digests the sight of the myriad bruises and cuts which mar her baby’s face a slow kindling rage ignites within her, spurred onto new fury when she spies the healing nick on his throat.

          “Looks like someone’s already done a good job of that,” she snaps as her fists tighten. “Did that happen in Ered Luin? Is that why you’re back?”

          “No, don’t worry about these,” Kili waves his hand in front of his face, “I’ve got something much more important to show you.”

          “Don’t tell me not to worry,” Dis orders, even as Kili’s hand on her elbow ushers her forward. “And why are you here? Did everything not go well?” Her heart sinks. She’d thought that perhaps Kili would be able to find Thorin, maybe connect with the lost remnants of his family…but judging from the injuries on his face all he found was more trouble.

          “Stop asking me why I’m here or I’ll think that you don’t want me,” Kili impatiently reprimands her. “And no, everything went…well…Here’s how things went in Ered Luin.”

          Dis stops looking at her son when he extends a finger, pointing towards the counter of her store. Her breath catches in her throat as she sees the dwarf standing with his back to her, golden hair gleaming in the late afternoon sunlight lancing through the windows. At her sharp inhale the dwarf turns. Dis only has a moment of clear vision before tears begin to form.

          He looks like his father, she reflects as he takes a tentative step towards her. She blinks furiously as the tears thicken because this is the first time she’s seen him in sixty-five years and she wants to etch this moment in her memory.

          Her little golden boy grew into quite a man—his weapons sit easily on his figure and there’s confidence in his carriage, even now, when his face is frozen in uncertainty. His shoulders are broad enough to support a kingdom, hands large enough to rebuild. His face is kind enough to laugh and his eyes…his eyes are deep enough to love.

          Those deep, sapphire eyes haven’t changed from when he was little more than a babe, tugging at her skirts and toddling after her while she grew heavy with his brother. She’d sung those eyes to half-mast at night, watched the topaz depths spark with delight at the sound of his father and uncle returning at the end of the day.

          The memory makes her knees buckle and only Kili’s swift arm around her waist keeps her from stumbling. Her little boy, her sweet little prince, looks at her with a stricken look on his face and suddenly she’s back, holding a newborn babe in her arms as she tries to tell a toddler that she’s going away only for a little while, that she’ll be back soon…

          _“Fili_ ,” she whispers, and the tears fall freely now. For decades Dis has restrained her grief, never daring to let more than an few errant drops of moisture escape her eyes, because she knew if she started to weep then she would never stop. Now the monsoon has been unleashed and she can barely discern a blurry outline of her eldest boy.

          “ _Kidhuzel,”_ she whispers, her endearment for her golden boy easily slipping out of her lips. The surprised jerk is noticeable enough to be seen through her haze of tears and heavy boots echo loudly on the wooden floor as her son, her lost baby, comes closer towards her. Kili stands by her side, supporting her still with a tense arm.

          “Fili,” she sighs. Her hand reaches out, shaking like changing leaves during autumn storms. She shouldn’t expect anything from him, he doesn’t owe her anything, he doesn’t even _know_ her for Durin’s sake. He is not her baby anymore, he is a dwarf full-grown and proud—All of these protests fade when strong arms wrap around her and hair as golden as the veins of Erebor fills her vision.

          “I’ve dreamed about you.” The voice is low and even, carefully measured and cultured—yet underneath it all she can still hear the peals of delighted laughter. “All my life I’ve seen your face and I’ve never known who you were.”

          “Fili,” she sobs as her arms wrap tightly around his thick torso. Her strong boy accepts her embrace and even tightens his arms around her. He’s always been strong, from the moment of his birth when his diminutive hands wrapped around her finger.

          Kili’s warmth molds against her side as he wraps his arms around both of them. Held in the embrace of both of her brave boys, hot tears scorch her cheeks and she weeps without shame or regret. All of them have lost so much, have had entire lifetimes ripped away from them—they deserved so much more, her sweet little boys. Fili, with his stubby hands splayed wide over her stomach, grinning in delight as he felt the kick against his hand. Kili, grinning sweetly up at her as he offers her up a handful of highly polished pebbles as a present. She deserved so much more—Nain, putting her swollen ankles on his lap and rubbing her feet at the end of a long day. They all deserved so much more—Thorin, with his wondering grin as he looked down at the peacefully sleeping newborn Kili.

          Her dark whirlwind hugs her closer as her bright sunrise tightens his arms around her. The tears finally begin to subside as truth and hope dawns on her—she might not have a kingdom, might not have her husband, but she has this—two pairs of strong arms around her, three hearts all beating to the same rhythm, all pulsing the same blood. Possibility beckons as Dis clutches both of her sons close to her.

          She’ll never let either one of them go again.

 -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

          When the only sound echoing through the night is the melody of crickets and only a thin sliver of moonlight splashes into the room, Fili props himself up on one elbow and gazes down at Kili’s slack face. The archer snuffles softly in his sleep as he shifts closer. Fili smiles fondly down at him and brushes the back of a finger down the rough stubble on Kili’s cheek.

          Dis had been horrified at the notion of Fili sleeping on the floor and had insisted that he share Kili’s bed. “It’ll only be for a few nights, you won’t mind,” she’d told Kili, who had simply choked on his inhalation from his pipe and nodded while Dwalin helpfully pounded his back. Upon trying to sleep Fili finds the reason for Kili’s dismay. The bed is already small enough that Kili’s toes hang over the end when he stretches his full length and the addition of Fili ensures that neither dwarf can even think about moving without jostling the other. Fili doesn’t care—he’ll take any chance to be close to Kili and at least this way they have a reasonable excuse for having tangled limbs in the morning.

          Dwalin’s snores drift through the tiny apartment and Fili swears that the thunderous noise almost shakes the rafters. It had been the most amusing sight he’d ever seen, the mighty Dwalin cowering underneath the assault of Dis’s furious fists as she’d come hurtling out of the store. After a few moments the burly warrior had lifted her up in a fierce hug that was half-restraint and half affection.

          Fili still can’t convince himself that it’s not a dream—everything feels unreal and he’s terrified that he’s going to wake up alone in Ered Luin. The thought sends panic spiking through him and he twirls a strand of Kili’s dark hair around his finger. The tug on his scalp wakes the brunette and he glares at Fili through hazy dark eyes.

          “Go sleep,” he slurs, before his eyes shut and he presses close to Fili. Fili wraps his arms around him, as warmth floods him—the gruff comfort of Dwalin, the safe, half-remembered adoration of Dis, and the exhilarating, fiery passion of Kili.

          He knows that challenges still await them—his stomach still shifts nervously at what awaits them in Ered Luin, with the whispers following both of them and Thorin’s steely disapproval looming over top him. The disappointment in Kili’s eyes stings him and he still wakes up every morning fearing that the space next to him will be left empty and cold.  

          Tomorrow. Tomorrow, he will rise as an Heir of Durin, ready to conquer the obstacles which stand in his way.

          But now, held within the safe confines of the bed, a simpler truth belongs to him. Kili lays next to him, tangling his long legs with Fili’s stocky limbs. His hand unconsciously rests directly over Fili’s heart and the feather-light touch soothes him like the sweetest song, the softest lullaby. Fili exhales, breathing out his worry and fear until only happiness and content are left within him, easily twining around that which is _Kili_.

          “Love you,” Fili whispers into his brother’s hair, brushing a kiss over the sleep-tangled tresses. Fili drinks in the sight of Kili, the wish granted, the dream realized.

          With a smile, Fili closes his eyes and drifts off to sleep.

 

_fin._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ukrad--greatest heart  
> Kidhuzel--the gold of gold


End file.
